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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/26528782">Underneath the Shattered Sky</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/JJK/pseuds/JJK'>JJK</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, Planet Hulk (2015)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Angst with a Happy Ending, Canon Divergence - Avengers: Endgame (Movie), Canonical Character Death, Comic Book Science, Endgame/Planet Hulk crossover, Heavy Angst, Institutional Racism, M/M, Multiverse, Mutual Pining, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Parallel Universes, Planet Hulk, Post-Canon Fix-It, Suicidal Thoughts, content warnings for, falcon and the winter soldier speculation, like the slowest, slowburn, to be clear this is MCU Bucky / Planet Hulk Steve, typical winter soldier warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-09-18</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-05-14</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-18 08:41:03</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>20</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>82,512</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/26528782</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/JJK/pseuds/JJK</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>“I shouldn’t have tried to kiss you.” Steve sounded choked. “I’m sorry. It was out of line.”<br/>“It’s really okay.”<br/>“No, it’s not. You’re not him. You’re your own person, with your own history, your own thoughts and feelings. Your own life here. I can’t expect you to be him. It’s not fair. To either of you.”<br/>“Maybe not,” Bucky huffed back. “But in this universe, my Steve’s an asshole who left me. And in your universe, your Bucky was taken from you, so I don’t really know what’s fair anymore.”</p>
<p>=</p>
<p>(aka: Endgame / Planet Hulk Crossover 'fix-it' fic. Endgame!Bucky and PlanetHulk!Steve both deserved a happy ending, here's my attempt to give them one).</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Bruce Banner/Betty Ross (Background), James "Bucky" Barnes/Steve Rogers, Sam Wilson / Monica Rambeau (background), Sam Wilson / Riley (background), past Sam Wilson / Riley</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>471</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>352</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. I . I . i</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Thank you so much to Kit for your help as a beta reader &amp; editor to transform this from my mess of a first draft into something that <strike>hopefully</strike> actually makes sense! This is a x1000 better thanks to you! (any remaining problems with it are all on me).  </p><p>And thanks to everyone who has been cheerleading this fic for months on twitter! It's finally here, I can only hope it doesn't disappoint.</p><p>'Part One' will have 5 chapters, posted weekly, 'Part Two', 'Part Three' and 'Part Four' will then follow in a similar fashion after a short break. This fic is 75% written and it's already at nearly 70k, so buckle up it's going to be a long ride - and Parts One &amp; Two are mostly angst (the fluff and happy ending will come later...much, much later...)</p><p><strong>*Content Warning*</strong>: suicidal thoughts, mentions of attempted suicide, more details in the end notes.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <strong>Part One: The Falcon &amp; The Winter Soldier</strong>
</p><p>
  <strong>  </strong>
</p><p>
  <span class="u"> <strong>I.I. The Centre Cannot Hold</strong> </span>
</p><p>
  <em>Turning and turning in the widening gyre<br/>
The falcon cannot hear the falconer<br/>
Things fall apart; the centre cannot hold;<br/>
Mere anarchy is loosed upon the world,<br/>
The blood-dimmed tide is loosed, and everywhere<br/>
The ceremony of innocence is drowned;<br/>
The best lack all conviction, while the worst<br/>
Are full of passionate intensity.<br/>
</em>
</p><p>
  <em></em>
</p><p>
  <em><strong>- The Second Coming, William Butler Yeats</strong> </em>
</p><p>
  <em></em>
</p><p>
  <strong>I.I.i.</strong>
</p><p>
  <em></em>
</p><p>Bucky grew up dreaming of space. He devoured books on the topic, fiction and non-fiction alike, whatever his ma could find and, later, whatever his meagre wages could stretch to. His daydreams were space operas where he and Steve travelled to new worlds, breathing clean air that didn’t hurt Steve’s lungs, bounding around in low gravity, worlds where he didn’t have to work backbreaking shifts down at the docks. The future was going to have flying cars and jet packs, mankind was going to forge intergalactic treaties; he couldn’t wait to see it.</p><p>
  <em></em>
</p><p>Funny how things never quite work out the way you imagine.</p><p>
  <em></em>
</p><p>When the aliens came, they were hostile, though after a lifetime of war, Bucky could no longer say he was surprised. Wakanda had come close to his vision of the future, but Bucky had been so scared of hurting anyone that he’d kept mostly to himself, tending the small farm T’Challa had given him rather than exploring the capital city or taking advantage of the country’s technological wonders. He found solace in the bright sunny days, socialising with the goats and children from the border tribes as he tried to figure out where he belonged in a world where multiple governments wanted his head, and where Steve was an international fugitive, trying to dismantle Hydra’s legacy whilst on the run. Bucky didn’t feel guilty that he wasn’t out there fighting alongside Steve; he knew the fighting would catch up with him eventually. He wanted to work on his recovery before then because he had to make sure that no one could turn his own mind against him ever again.</p><p>
  <em></em>
</p><p>Of course, the fighting came sooner than expected, in the form of monstrous alien beings ready to rip themselves to shreds against the shielded border of Wakanda. Bucky watched them in abject horror, standing shoulder to shoulder with Steve on a battlefield so far removed from the front lines of WW2 that it might as well have been taking place on an alien planet.</p><p>
  <em></em>
</p><p>Their odds were dismal, but what was new? Bucky had been ready to lay down his life in battle since 1943. He couldn’t exactly say that he was ready to die, but he knew the risks when he’d been called up, when he’d followed Steve back into the fray, when he’d picked up Steve’s shield on that windswept train carriage, when he’d gone toe-to-toe with Iron Man, and now as they faced down an alien horde. He didn’t expect to simply disintegrate into ash whilst Steve looked helplessly on, but by then he’d given up on being surprised by anything.</p><p>
  <em></em>
</p><p>The look of fear and horror in Steve’s eyes as he watched Bucky slip away would haunt Bucky for the rest of his life, sitting side-by-side with Steve’s desperation as he reached for Bucky on the train, his horror and anguish when the Winter Soldier had been unmasked, and his pleading resignation when he’d begged Bucky to kill him as the helicarrier crashed into the Potomac. Bucky had almost wished for his memory to be wiped again when those recollections filtered back to him. The pain of electricity scrambling his brain was surely nothing next to seeing that hurt in Steve’s eyes.</p><p>
  <em></em>
</p><p>But worse, far worse than that, was the deadened, stoic blankness that Bucky found in Steve when he returned.</p><p>
  <em></em>
</p><p>*✧･ﾟ:* ✧*:･ﾟ✧*</p><p>
  <em></em>
</p><p>For Bucky it felt like an instant; he fell and then awoke on the Wakanda soil. Sam was shouting from somewhere in the scrub, and T’Challa was hurrying over to see if Bucky was okay. Steve was gone. Where had Steve gone? And then a blinding circle of orange light carved itself in the air before them and a cloak-wearing wizard informed them of another battle, one which would decide the fate of the universe.</p><p>
  <em></em>
</p><p>Bucky didn’t have time to reunite with Steve during the battle, there wasn’t time for anything other than survival. More impossible odds, more impossible weapons – was that a flying horse? – Bucky tried to keep himself and those around him alive as the ruins of the Avengers compound was overrun with more nightmarish creatures. He caught glimpses of Steve, wielding lightning, battling on despite being clearly battered and bruised beyond what most people could take. Then it was over, as quickly as it had begun, and the uphill struggle to try and rebuild began.</p><p>
  <em></em>
</p><p>Tony Stark and Natalia were dead. Five years had passed, and whatever had happened in those missing years had clearly killed something inside of Steve.</p><p>
  <em></em>
</p><p>Bucky found him after the battle, directing the clean-up effort, still suited and booted despite the fact that there was a gaping gash in his right arm and blood trickling from the corners of his mouth.</p><p>
  <em></em>
</p><p>“Steve.” Bucky gently caught his arm. “Steve, stop.”</p><p>
  <em></em>
</p><p>Steve slowly tracked his eyes up to Bucky and stared at him, brow creased in confusion with a haunted look behind his eyes.</p><p>
  <em></em>
</p><p>“Come on, let’s get you patched up.” Bucky herded Steve away from the wreckage, towards the medic station which had been erected by Damage Control on the remains of the highway leading up to the compound. Bucky grabbed a handful of medical supplies and started tending to Steve’s wounds, cleaning and patching him up like it was old times. “This’ll sting,” he warned in a soft voice, wiping at the gash with antiseptic. Steve didn’t even flinch. He didn’t say anything, just let himself be manoeuvred and manhandled like he was in a daze. “It’s okay, Steve. Everything’s gonna be okay.” Bucky titled Steve’s jaw to force eye contact and gave him what he hoped was an encouraging smile. Steve just let his eyes slide from Bucky’s face to whatever chaos was happening behind him. Bucky held his smile, though it broke his heart to do so.</p><p>
  <em></em>
</p><p>It was strange to be standing on American soil again after so long; strange to think he’d been transported there in an instant by stepping through a glowing portal, without having to hide in shipping containers and freight trains like he had when he’d slipped out of the country before. Bucky wasn’t sure what his status was in the eyes of the government; five years ago they would have killed him on sight, so when Thaddeus Ross landed amongst the chaos in a sleek black chopper, Bucky slunk into the background. He watched with an aching heart as Steve squared his shoulders and gave a mission report, slipping into the role of Captain America and putting up the façade that Bucky had hated since 1943.</p><p>
  <em></em>
</p><p>Apparently, Bucky had been granted a pardon during the ‘blip’, not that Steve bothered to tell him. Steve couldn’t bring himself to talk to Bucky at all beyond what was necessary to coordinate his mission to return the stones. Bucky tried to understand; Steve had a lot on his shoulders and preparing to return the stones wasn’t an easy task, nor was it something that Bucky could really help with. But he couldn’t deny that it hurt, especially when it felt like Steve couldn’t even look at him.</p><p>
  <em></em>
</p><p>*✧･ﾟ:* ✧*:･ﾟ✧*</p><p>
  <em></em>
</p><p>Bucky waited until after Tony’s funeral to confront Steve, praying that Steve’s grief was to blame for his mood, not something else that Bucky didn’t understand. The funeral itself had been an uneasy affair. Bucky shifted uneasily from foot to foot during the service as he watched Steve standing front and centre with Pepper and Morgan, convinced that any minute someone was going to snap at him and tell him he didn’t belong. But no one did. Sam gave him arm a reassuring squeeze and Pepper just gave him an impossibly sad smile. Somehow that was worse. Bucky thought he might have preferred someone yelling at him. Guilt for coming between Steve and Tony gnawed deep within Bucky, and he was still saddened by the deaths of Howard and Maria. Although his time in Wakanda had helped him place the blame where it belonged – firmly at the feet of Hydra – he hadn’t quite learned to fully forgive himself for it yet.</p><p>
  <em></em>
</p><p>He gave it another day, waiting for his own emotions to settle before he went looking for Steve, finding him in one of the only finished rooms in the new Avengers compound, pouring through documents and scanning the information displayed on glowing screens around the room. His face was concentrated in effort, eyebrows pinched together and lips pursed in his usual look of confusion, but the expression behind his eyes was still lacking. It was like talking to an empty shell of a man, and it made Bucky shudder every time.</p><p>
  <em></em>
</p><p>“Hey, Steve.” Bucky approached slowly so as not to spook him.</p><p>
  <em></em>
</p><p>“Buck.” Steve nodded in greeting, keeping his eyes fixed on the screens. “Does Banner need help with the equipment?”</p><p>
  <em></em>
</p><p>“No, he’s fine.” Bucky hovered as Steve ignored him. “Steve.”</p><p>
  <em></em>
</p><p>“I’m a little busy here, Buck. What do you need?”</p><p>
  <em></em>
</p><p>Bucky swallowed a thick lump in his throat, his anger bubbling to the surface. “Look at me.”</p><p>
  <em></em>
</p><p>Steve lifted his head but stared at the wall behind Bucky’s shoulder.</p><p>
  <em></em>
</p><p>“Why can’t you fucking look at me, Steve?” Bucky’s voice cracked. That finally did it. But when Steve dragged his eyes over to meet Bucky’s, it was with that same hollow non-expression he’d been giving everyone recently, the same dead-eyed look that was all Captain America and nothing of Steve Rogers. “What happened to us, Stevie? What the fuck happened in those five years?”</p><p>
  <em></em>
</p><p>“I lost you.” Steve said and like that, his gaze was gone. He propped his hands on the desk he was standing in front of and dipped his head to stare at the floor. “I lost you again and it broke me. Damn near killed me. I...” He stopped and shook his head.</p><p>
  <em></em>
</p><p>For a moment Bucky feared he wasn’t going to go on, but then Steve did, and it was worse than Bucky was prepared for.</p><p>
  <em></em>
</p><p>“After the garden. After we knew the stones were gone and there was no hope of getting anybody back. I didn’t see how I could go on. I…I put a gun in my mouth. I would have pulled the trigger if it weren’t for Natasha.”</p><p>
  <em></em>
</p><p>Bucky gave a strangled whimper. His mind blaring the singular word, <em>Steve!</em></p><p>
  <em></em>
</p><p>“She hauled me over the coals for that. Told me I was a selfish, idiotic bastard. Then she put me to work. I wouldn’t have survived without her. And now she’s gone. And it’s all my fucking fault.”</p><p>
  <em></em>
</p><p>“Steve.” Bucky whispered. “I think it’s <em>Thanos’</em> fucking fault. Let him shoulder the blame, this isn’t all on you.” But wasn’t that typical Steve, bearing the weight of the universe on his shoulders?</p><p>
  <em></em>
</p><p>“But it is. Greatest fucking tactician of the century and I couldn’t think of a better way to beat him? I let Nat die. I let Tony convince me to keep the last five years as they were, and for what? Tony’s dead. Morgan’s gonna have to grow up without a dad. And what about everyone who succumbed to their grief in those five years? What about the people who didn’t have Nat to wrestle the gun from their hands? Their loved ones have come back to find them gone.” Steve slammed his fist on the desk. “Have you seen the casualty listings? All the so-called ‘collateral damage’? Millions and millions are dead, not from the snap, but the aftermath of it. And I. I let that happen. I should have argued with Tony, I should have wiped the last five years from existence, but I was blinded –” Steve cut himself off with a sharp intake of breath and a shake of his head.</p><p>
  <em></em>
</p><p>It was the first time since the battle that Bucky had seen Steve show any trace of emotion at all, and he wasn’t sure how to respond to the vitriol in Steve’s voice.</p><p>
  <em></em>
</p><p>“I was blinded by my desperation to get you back. I would have compromised on <em>anything</em>. Now I have the blood of close to a billion on my hands. And I can’t.” Steve’s voice cracked and he sucked in a deep breath through a shuddering sob. “I can’t do this anymore. Any of it. I can’t be Cap. I can’t stand up and pretend I saved the world when I fucking ruined it. I quit. I’m taking the stones back and then I’m going home.”</p><p>
  <em></em>
</p><p>“Home?” Bucky dared to let himself hope. Home had meant lots of things over the years. Home was the cramped tenement building in Brooklyn; home was the townhouse in war-torn London where they’d been stationed between missions; home was the farm in Wakanda; home was the cabin he wanted to buy with Steve, on a lake somewhere with mountains in the distance and a big airy sunroom Steve could turn into a studio, a place they could stop fighting and finally retire and grow old in peace.</p><p>
  <em></em>
</p><p>It hurt him so much to hear that Steve felt responsible for all the awful repercussions that Thanos really deserved the blame for. Those five years must have been hell to endure whilst being racked with so much guilt, and the fact that Steve had almost…</p><p>
  <em></em>
</p><p>Bucky felt sick to his stomach. It was unbearable, unthinkable, to know that he might have been brought back to find that Steve had killed himself out of grief. But of course, he wouldn’t have been brought back, would he? Without Steve, no one would have.</p><p>
  <em></em>
</p><p>Bucky stared patiently at Steve, waiting for him to elaborate on what he meant by ‘home’, before he noticed with a jolt that Steve was staring at something on the desk. Something Bucky hadn’t seen in a long, long time: the damn compass that was synonymous with Peggy Carter. But…Bucky didn’t follow. Peggy was dead, wasn’t she? He frowned until the realisation hit him like a gut shot.</p><p>
  <em></em>
</p><p>“You’re going back to 1945?” Bucky demanded. “You’re going back to Peggy? You think she’s ‘home’? That dame you knew for all of five minutes during the war, who danced with you because I fucking couldn’t?” Bucky demanded. Rage seethed through him, threatening to bubble over.</p><p>
  <em></em>
</p><p>“If she’ll have me.”</p><p>
  <em></em>
</p><p>“Why the fuck would she?”</p><p>
  <em></em>
</p><p>“We would have gotten married, if I’d survived the war. It’s the life I should have had.” Steve was back to talking in his expressionless voice, all emotions carefully guarded and bottled up tight.</p><p>
  <em></em>
</p><p>God, Bucky wanted to shake him, tell him to get some fucking therapy. Sometimes he wondered if Steve wasn’t really the more messed up between the two of them. At least Bucky acknowledged his demons, at least he’d accepted help to try and work through his problems. Steve had just shuttered himself away whenever Bucky had even tried to broach the subject of him getting help. To find that he’d been <em>leading</em> therapy sessions in the last five years without first addressing any of his own problems was a twisted fucking joke. Everyone wanted to believe Captain America was unshakeable, so they did. Bucky feared that Steve had been playing the part for so long that maybe the lines had become blurred, even for him.</p><p>
  <em></em>
</p><p>“No, Steve. No. You – you told me, she lived a good life. She got married, she had kids. She told you she was happy, don’t you dare take that away from her,” Bucky pleaded. <em>Don’t take that away from me</em> was left unsaid, hanging between them.</p><p>
  <em></em>
</p><p>“Time travel doesn’t work like that. It won’t change the past. She’ll have her life.”</p><p>
  <em></em>
</p><p>“You'll just create a branch of reality where the two of you can play house,” Bucky finished for him. “You’re really gonna mess with reality like that? Really gonna risk the fate of the universe for a pipe dream that was built on fucking bullshit?”</p><p>
  <em></em>
</p><p>Steve didn’t look at Bucky, but he squared his shoulders and stood up to his full height, Captain America mode fully activated.</p><p>
  <em></em>
</p><p>“You’ve spent so long pretending to be <em>him</em> in the last five years that you’ve forgotten who you really are,” Bucky spat. “You’ve fallen for your own propaganda.”</p><p>
  <em></em>
</p><p>“I should never have gone into the ice, Bucky. I should have jerry-rigged the autopilot, I should have swum to safety.”</p><p>
  <em></em>
</p><p>“Then why didn’t you?” he asked in a hoarse, broken whisper.</p><p>
  <em></em>
</p><p>“Because I couldn’t face a life without you.”</p><p>
  <em></em>
</p><p><em>Oh, oh god</em>. Bucky crumpled and staggered back against the wall.</p><p>
  <em></em>
</p><p>“When I lose you, Bucky, I do crazy things. I lose all judgement, and other people pay the price. I can’t risk that anymore.”</p><p>
  <em></em>
</p><p>“So, this is my fault?” Bucky’s voice was quiet and trembling.</p><p>
  <em></em>
</p><p>“No. It’s mine, and I have to remove myself from the equation. I can’t risk losing you again.”</p><p>
  <em></em>
</p><p>Bucky choked back a sob. How was this even happening? Not a week ago he’d been looking forward to Steve’s next visit in Wakanda, eager to share the news that Shuri thought his triggers were finally gone, that he was remembering more and more of the good stuff from their days before the war. Their trips to Coney Island were now separate, defined memories rather than a blur of lights and heights and hotdogs. He wanted to tell Steve that he remembered the time they swiped a pie right out from under his grandmother’s nose. That he remembered making kites from old newspapers and sticks they’d found in the park. That he remembered when they were sixteen and seventeen, that first hesitant brush of lips as they sat in the shadows of the fire escape and watched New York come alive on the Fourth of July.</p><p>
  <em></em>
</p><p>But Bucky had never had the chance to tell Steve any of that. They were thrown straight into the fight, and now straight into this hell.</p><p>
  <em></em>
</p><p>“If you do this, Steve, you’re not the man I thought you were.”</p><p>
  <em></em>
</p><p>Steve nodded slowly, standing ramrod straight, hands clasped around the buckle on his belt.</p><p>
  <em></em>
</p><p>“I never was, Buck. You always thought too highly of me.” He about-turned and strode from the room.</p><p>
  <em></em>
</p><p>Bucky stopped trying to hold back his tears.</p><p>
  <em></em>
</p><p>*✧･ﾟ:* ✧*:･ﾟ✧*</p><p>
  <em></em>
</p><p>They gathered by the platform just after dawn, with birds twittering cheerfully and the river rushing softly by. Captain America looked stoic and stern as he said goodbye to Sam. There was no trace of Steve Rogers left in him when he approached Bucky.</p><p>
  <em></em>
</p><p>“Don’t do anything stupid ‘til I get back,” Cap said by rote. It sounded stiff and false. It was worse than if he’d said nothing at all.</p><p>
  <em></em>
</p><p>“How can I? You’re taking all the stupid with you,” Bucky parroted back. He refused to cry but he couldn’t summon a smile, not even for Sam’s sake.</p><p>
  <em></em>
</p><p>“It’ll be okay, Buck.”</p><p>
  <em></em>
</p><p>He wanted to scoff, wanted to punch Captain America in his stupid perfect face. Nothing was ever going to be okay again. How fucking could it?</p><p>
  <em></em>
</p><p>Bucky watched the scene unfold with a barely held-together resolve. He watched Sam receive the shield, watched him grin widely, and then gave him a nod and a smile, when all he wanted to do was rage and scream.</p><p>
  <em></em>
</p><p>Afterwards, he approached the bench where Steve sat, shrunken and wrinkled with age. He was smiling brightly and his blue eyes shone. Bucky’s stomach roiled, and he almost threw up.</p><p>
  <em></em>
</p><p>“I hope it was fucking worth it,” Bucky said with uncontained venom and stalked back to the compound.</p><p>
  <em></em>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Content Warning Details: Steve becomes very depressed during the blip and mentions trying to take his own life.</p><p>I know you probably all hate me right now, I'm sorry! I still hate Endgame and would absolutely not choose this path for Steve, but this is the hand we were dealt and this is my attempt to reconcile everything and give as many characters as I can a happy ending. Please bear with me - we'll get to the good stuff withe Endgame!Bucky/PlanetHulk!Steve eventually 💙💙💙</p><p>Please leave a comment if you can, I'd love to you know what you think.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. I . I . ii</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Thank for your comments! I'm glad you all like it so far. The next few chapters cover my speculations for FATWS based on some of the trailers we've seen and things I think <em>could</em> happen, I promise Planet Hulk Steve will turn up soon, I just have to lay the ground work for where Bucky is at / build up some plot for him to get here first. Please bear with me 💙💙💙</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <strong>I.I.ii</strong>
</p>
<p>Steve went to DC to coordinate the rebuilding effort, so Bucky stayed in New York, renting a tiny apartment in a Brooklyn that felt nothing like the one he’d left behind before he’d shipped off to war. For all intents and purposes, he tried to ignore the fact that Steve had even come back after returning the stones. It wasn’t a Steve Rogers he knew; it wasn’t a Steve Rogers he wanted anything to do with.</p>
<p>The truth was, Bucky had always known he would lose Steve one day. When they were young and Steve was ill, Bucky pretty much figured he’d lose Steve any given winter; they certainly didn’t think he’d live past his twenties. Once he became Captain America, Bucky no longer feared Steve would die – he seemed capable of walking away from anything – but he knew that one day Steve would have to settle down and get married, either to Peggy or some other equally wonderful woman, and Bucky would be forced to watch from the sidelines, acting as the best uncle to their kids, if he could stand to stick around and watch. Even here in the 21st century, Bucky had known he was going to lose Steve, eventually. Bucky could daydream about that house by the lake all he wanted, but he knew by then that Steve would never stop fighting. The only way he was ever going to retire was going to be when he was dead.</p>
<p>Bucky knew all of this, but it still didn’t make Steve’s leaving any easier. Despite all rational sense, Bucky had clung to the hope that they might be happy one day – happy and old – that there was a place for them in a world without war. Maybe it hurt so much because Steve had found that place, it just wasn’t with Bucky.</p>
<p>All at once, everything felt too much, his shirt was too thick and heavy on his chest, the air conditioning unit blew too-cold air across his skin and churned too loudly in the corner of the room. His hair was hot and heavy, the way it crowded his collar and tickled his cheeks was too much. It was all too much.</p>
<p>Realising this was the onset of a panic attack, Bucky worked his way through controlled breathing exercises. He staggered to the bathroom and splashed cold water on his face and tried to focus on breathing deeply for a count of four, holding for a count of four, exhaling for a count of four, and holding for a count of four. Repeating again and again, two, three, four, until his heart rate levelled and he stopped wanting to punch a hole in the AC unit.</p>
<p>His hair was still long and heavy, but when he pulled it back into a bun at the back of his head, he was overwhelmed with sense memories that sent him spiralling right back into angry despair. Memories of Steve brushing his fingers through Bucky’s locks and trying to weave a plait as they watched the sun sink behind the mountains of Wakanda. Steve’s fingers carding through and gripping tight as Bucky worked him over with his mouth. Falling asleep, entwined together with Steve’s fingers still tangled in Bucky’s hair.</p>
<p>Bucky shuddered, suddenly hating his hair. He snatched a pair of scissors from the first aid kit in the cabinet and bunched his hair at the base of his scalp, shearing through it in one quick movement. The hair sprang free and fell about his ears and jaw in messy, uneven lengths that had clearly been chopped through in angry haste. He set about trying to neaten it up; he knew the theory, he and Steve had cut each other’s hair many a time back in Brooklyn, back in the thirties. But he’d never had to do it on himself. With a shaking hand, he gave up and threw the scissors in the sink, pulling out the clippers he used on his beard. They came with an attachment for longer hair. He could just shave it all off and have done with it.</p>
<p>In hindsight, it was lucky that Sam decided to pop round for a visit when he did, otherwise Bucky might have found himself bald and short an eyebrow from the way his hands were shaking, metal and flesh alike.</p>
<p>“Woah, there, Edward Scissorhands.” Sam appraised Bucky’s hair when Bucky threw open his front door so fast he left finger marks dented in the frame. “Give me the clippers.”</p>
<p>“No.”</p>
<p>“C’mon, man. S’not like I can do a worse job. You white boys never know how to cut your own damn hair. The number of times I had to tidy up Riley’s high and tight?” He made grabby hands for the clippers and Bucky relented, letting himself be steered back in front of the bathroom mirror so that Sam could work his magic.</p>
<p>Bucky’s hair ended up shorter than it had ever been before, apart from that summer in ’27 when everyone in school got lice and his ma had shaved all of his hair off, Becca’s too – god, how she’d howled. Bucky preened and frowned at the mirror.</p>
<p>“Stop fussing,” Sam chastised. “Looks good on you.”</p>
<p>That much, at least, was still true. Especially with the newly-chiselled features of Bucky’s cheekbones and the sharp lines of his jaw. Apparently, not sleeping and training at all hours of the day would do that to a guy. He looked a little gaunt if he was being honest with himself; he probably ought to try and get more sleep. It wasn’t like he’d never slept in an empty bed before, he didn’t understand why he was finding it so difficult. Bucky prodded at the bags forming under his eyes and ran a hand across his hair, feeling it bristle under his fingertips. At least he could rationalise that this haircut would blend better into modern American crowds than his long hair had, and let himself pretend there was a rational reason behind it. Bucky preened a little more, tweaking the lay of his hair slightly before Sam got utterly fed up with him.</p>
<p>“Funnily enough, I didn’t come around just to cut your hair.” Sam crossed his arms and leant against the door jamb.</p>
<p>“Why are you here?”</p>
<p>“I need a favour.”</p>
<p>Bucky stopped running his hands through his short fuzz and narrowed his eyes at Sam’s reflection. “What kind of favour?”</p>
<p>Sam shifted to reveal the shield bag propped by the bathroom door, which Bucky had failed to notice before. “Don’t tell Steve,” he began, waving a warning finger. “But this shit is harder than it looks. How the hell does he make it rebound where he wants?”</p>
<p>“It’s just simple physics.”</p>
<p>Sam shook his head. “That thing does not obey the laws of physics. At all,” he complained, but he looked lovingly over at the shield all the same.</p>
<p>“Why not ask Steve to help you?”</p>
<p>Sam laughed. “Please, he’s like ninety now. I don’t want to break him.”</p>
<p>Bucky ground his teeth at the reminder.</p>
<p>“Besides,” Sam continued with a smirk. “I’m pretty sure you taught him everything he knows.”</p>
<p>“I tried my best.” The first few missions were often marked with their squad, the so-called ‘Howling Commandos’, scouring the treeline to find the errant shield. It took a few weeks before Bucky realised that Steve broke a finger or two nearly every time he caught the damn thing. A particularly nasty screaming match had followed after that; Steve never could accept help from anyone, even if that someone was a highly capable sniper who’d picked up plenty of tricks for calculating angles and trajectories on the fly. Damn stubborn fool.</p>
<p>Bucky appraised Sam before answering. He knew Sam didn’t entirely trust him – which was fair enough, Bucky still didn’t entirely trust himself – but despite the fact that Sam made a point to rag on him at every turn, Bucky suspected that Sam had actually grown to like him.</p>
<p>“Just training,” Bucky made Sam promise. “I’m not signing up for any of that Avengers shit.”</p>
<p>Sam was quick to agree. “Of course. I think you’ve more than earned your right to retire.” </p>
<p>But retirement didn’t really have the same appeal without anyone to share it with. The cabin by the lake felt like far too lonely a prospect, now. Bucky had always thrived best with company and crowds, drawing his energy from others; he knew that if he moved away, he’d end up isolated and depressed, especially without Shuri or the Wakandan kids to force him to socialise. It felt safer to stay in Brooklyn and try to adjust to life in the 21st century, life not on the run or spent in hiding.</p>
<p>*✧･ﾟ:* ✧*:･ﾟ✧*</p>
<p>Bucky wasn’t the only one trying to build a life from scratch; plenty of people had been displaced post-snap and were scrambling to rebuild what they’d lost. New York seemed to have done a pretty good job of keeping itself ticking over during the ‘blip’, and it was easy enough to lose himself amongst the crowds, getting used to coffee shops and bars, catching up with all the 20th-century literature he’d missed – and plenty of pulpy space novels that didn’t really class as literature at all, but were by far his favourites.</p>
<p>Bucky considered getting a degree, he considered travelling the world, he considered opening a bakery, writing a space novel of his own, he considered a lot of things, but he was still so angry at how things had played out that he quickly lost interest in everything. Soon, even the most compelling books or films or music couldn’t hold his attention for more than a few minutes. He was back to training at all hours of the day; running, punching, and target practise never seemed to lose their shine.</p>
<p>When Sam approached him again, Bucky was ready to reconsider his opinion on the whole ‘Avengers shit’.</p>
<p>“I’m not being your damn sidekick,” he warned. “I don’t care what the comic books said.”</p>
<p>“Nah, man. I need a wingman.” Sam grinned and clapped Bucky on the shoulder.</p>
<p>“And I’m not strapping a pair of those death traps to my back either,” he growled.</p>
<p>“Wouldn’t dream of it. Good sniper support’s hard to come by. I want you covering my six.” Sam beamed at him.</p>
<p>Bucky nodded once.</p>
<p>“Good. Sharon’s got some leads she wants us to chase. I’ll tell her you’re on board.”</p>
<p>“Sharon Carter? I didn’t know you were working with her again.”</p>
<p>“It’s all unofficial. She’s trying to get back into the agency’s good graces. They demoted her pretty severely after that clusterfuck in Berlin.”</p>
<p>“And helping <em>you</em> is gonna solve that how?”</p>
<p>“She gives us intel and support where she can, in return we crack open some cases for her and gift the CIA with some gift-wrapped bad guys.” Sam grinned. “Win-win.”</p>
<p>Bucky nodded. He may have been cleared of the Winter Soldier’s war crimes, but the question of the violated Accords still hung in the air. Until that was resolved, any Avengers business was strictly off-book. Of course, the criminal masterminds and troublemakers of the world weren’t exactly going to take a long vacation whilst the government sorted itself out. There were plenty of people trying to profit off the chaos of the post-snap world, stirring up more trouble and creating even more wrack and ruin.</p>
<p>Not to mention the weird temporal shifts and <em>glitches</em> that seemed to be rippling across the world. People vanished, others turned up unexplained with inexplicable memories. Constellations shifted and broke. Sometimes, when the sun set, the sky was tinged with green, and sometimes it felt like there was an extra hour in the day. If you weren’t paying attention, it might well have slipped your notice, but of course, Bucky noticed. Sam said Banner and Strange were looking into it, with no leads at present.</p>
<p>“That’s weird magic stuff.” Sam brushed it off. “Not our area of expertise.”</p>
<p>No. Their expertise lay in tracking a neo-Nazi, wannabe Hydra cell stirring up trouble in Queens, and leaving them zip-tied for the authorities to deal with; breaking open a smuggling ring diverting aid meant for those who had been displaced during the snap and selling it on for profit; fighting off Batroc and his band of mercenaries who were thriving in the power vacuum as snapped and non-snapped political players vied against each other for power. </p>
<p>Sam and Bucky worked well together. They razzed each other constantly, but it was nice to have someone to argue with, someone who’d mock him like it was old times instead of tip-toeing around him like he’d explode at any moment. Banner was the only other one who didn’t seem afraid; judging from his build and the leathery strength of his skin, which looked thicker than Kevlar, Bucky thought he understood why.</p>
<p>Sharon kept feeding them intel and they kept working to keep the peace in secret. It was very rare that she came in person to deliver their mission briefings, though, which was why Bucky was incredibly confused to find her sitting at his kitchen table one morning when he returned from a long run around Prospect Park.</p>
<p>“Carter.” He managed to greet her without betraying how surprised he was to see her.</p>
<p>“Barnes. We need to talk.”</p>
<p>Bucky propped himself against the door jamb and crossed his arms. “Alright, spill.”</p>
<p>She hesitated, which filled Bucky with unease. Not good news, then.</p>
<p>“It’s Zemo.” Cold fear churned in Bucky’s gut. “He’s being released next week.”</p>
<p>For a moment the words didn’t compute. “What?” Bucky barked. “<em>Released?”</em></p>
<p>“It looks like he’s been working with the CIA over the last five years, as a CI,” Sharon continued with a practised air of calm.</p>
<p><em>Criminal Informant</em>, Bucky’s brain helpfully supplied, the part which had absorbed detective shows like a sponge over the past few months. </p>
<p>“In exchange for his cooperation, they’re granting him early release.”</p>
<p>“He <em>bombed</em> the UN,” Bucky protested.</p>
<p>“I know.” Sharon grimaced. “But, to quote, ‘his assistance in bringing down the remaining Hydra cells has been unparalleled.’” She scowled. “No one combed through the intel Widow leaked onto the internet with quite the same tenacity as he did. Clearly, he uncovered information other people missed.”</p>
<p>Bucky fumed silently by the door.</p>
<p>“I’m sorry, Barnes. There’s nothing I can do – I just thought I’d give you a heads up, in case he came after you again.” She did genuinely look apologetic. “You got those triggers sorted, right?”</p>
<p>Bucky huffed, “Yes.” But that was hardly the point. What on earth was the point of a justice system if it let someone like that go free?</p>
<p>“Good.” She stood up but left a folder sitting on the kitchen with the details of another off-the-books job from the CIA. “I also need you to take a look into this when you get a chance.”</p>
<p>Bucky managed to put a lid on his simmering anger for long enough to thank her before she left. She didn’t have to come all to New York the way to tell him in person, and he did appreciate it.</p>
<p>*✧･ﾟ:* ✧*:･ﾟ✧*</p>
<p>His 107th birthday came and went, summer slipped into autumn, and Zemo didn’t materialise or ambush him, so Bucky stopped worrying. He also got pretty good at pretending that Steve didn’t exist, his hair grew into something he didn’t mind so much, and he and Sam formed a basis of understanding that almost felt like trust.</p>
<p>“I don’t hate you,” Sam said one day as they were gearing up for a mission. “I don’t like you all that much, but I’d still take a bullet for you. I hope you know that?”</p>
<p>Bucky had pretty much figured out that Sam considered him a friend by now, but it was still nice to hear it said out loud, or as close as Sam was prepared to admit his feelings, anyway.</p>
<p>“Somewhere non-vital of course,” Sam added with a grin.</p>
<p>Bucky laughed. “Like your ass?”</p>
<p>“Hell no, have you seen this beaut? ‘Sides, this is America’s ass now, I gotta protect it.” Sam smirked back, wiggling his hips at Bucky. “You gotta admit it’s better than Steve’s ass ever was.”</p>
<p>This time Bucky snorted. “You have <em>no idea</em> what Steve could do with his ass.” He grinned wickedly and winked at Sam. For one blissful moment he’d forgotten that Steve wasn’t just off fighting somewhere else with his long hair and his beard and his blacked-out Captain America suit.</p>
<p>“Damn, Barnes. TMI. T. M. I.” Sam drew it out for emphasis, but he was still grinning playfully. “I’m having dinner with him tomorrow night, how am I meant to look him in the eye?”</p>
<p><em>Ugh, right</em>. Bucky deflated and his shoulders slumped.</p>
<p>“You’re welcome to come with me. He asks about you all the time.”</p>
<p>“No thanks.”</p>
<p>“You can’t ignore him forever,” Sam tried.</p>
<p>Bucky rounded on him, eyes narrowed into a full-on Winter Soldier glare. “I can. And I will.”</p>
<p>“He misses you.”</p>
<p>“Yeah? Well he should have fucking thought about that before he left.”</p>
<p>“He left me, too, you know,” Sam replied softly.</p>
<p>Bucky’s glare softened.</p>
<p>“I spent four years fighting alongside him, got to know him pretty well,” Sam carried on, fixing Bucky with a sad look, somewhere between a smile and a frown. “I knew he was unhappy for a long time. He always put on a brave face, but I’d catch him sometimes when he thought no one was looking. There was one time after a mission, he’d taken quite a beating, and he was just sitting there, bleeding into his mashed potatoes. That was before the snap, before whatever happened to him in the blip. I know you don’t agree with what he did, and I agree that leaving us like that was a shitty thing to do. But he looks happy now, Barnes. Happier than I’ve ever seen him. I can’t begrudge him that.”</p>
<p>But that was just the thing. Steve had found happiness without Bucky. It was a petulant feeling and harbouring it would only turn Bucky bitter and jaded – more so that he already was – but he couldn’t see past the betrayal he felt. Not yet, at any rate.</p>
<p>“He’s not getting any younger,” Sam pressed. “I don’t think he has all that long with us. I just...” he sighed and searched for words that wouldn’t make Bucky punch him. Bucky waited, patiently. “I think you’ll regret it if you don’t make peace with him before he goes.”</p>
<p>“He’s already dead to me, Wilson.” Bucky grabbed his rifle and clipped it to his back with a dull clunk that even managed to sound annoyed.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Sorry (not sorry) for all the angst 💙💙💙</p>
<p>Check back next Friday for Chapter I.II.i 😁😁</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. I . II . i</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>This chapter draws heavily from the Captain America Truth: Red, White &amp; Black comic, and tries to shoe-horn the story of Isaiah Bradley into the MCU. There's lots of mentions of institutional racism, human experimentation - there's nothing graphic, it's all glossed over, but tread lightly if you don't want to read any of that 💙💙💙 (If you haven't read that comic, I highly reccomend it, it's so sad, but so powerful). </p><p>There were meant to 3 sub-sections in this part, but I've re-cut into two because my original chapter break ended somewhere rather unhappy and none of you deserve that! I hope you like it 💙</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span class="u">
    <strong>I.II. A Caged Bird</strong>
  </span>
</p><p>
  <em>But a caged bird stands on the grave of dreams</em><br/>
<em>his shadow shouts on a nightmare scream</em><br/>
<em>his wings are clipped and his feet are tied</em><br/>
<em>so he opens his throat to sing.</em><br/>
<br/>
<em>The caged bird sings</em><br/>
<em>with a fearful trill</em><br/>
<em>of things unknown</em><br/>
<em>but longed for still</em><br/>
<em>and his tune is heard</em><br/>
<em>on the distant hill</em><br/>
<em>for the caged bird</em><br/>
<em>sings of freedom.</em><br/>
<em>
    <strong>- Caged Bird, Maya Angelou</strong>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <strong>I.II.i.</strong>
</p><p>Bucky should have known it wouldn’t last, nothing good ever did; it was the bad stuff that lingered. The government regrouped and held an emergency election. President Ellis was re-elected to finish his second term, and <em>Vice President</em> Ross decided to call Sam in to answer for his violation of the Accords.</p><p>“You’d think they’d have more pressing things to worry about,” Sam grumbled.</p><p>Fed up with running, and hoping the precedent set by sentencing Scott and Clint would work in his favour, Sam turned himself in. He was sentenced to two years under house arrest, which he opted to serve out at his sister Sarah’s sprawling place in New Orleans.</p><p>It was stupidly easy to remove the tracker from his anklet and place it in Redwing, instead. Sam and Bucky had fun programming the bird to fly around the house in an approximation of Sam’s daily routine whilst Sam treated Bucky to a tour of the sights and sounds of good old NOLA. They helped with the post-snap rebuilding effort, volunteering at shelters and soup kitchens, and when Sam’s mom, Darlene, moved herself down from Harlem to stay with them as well, Bucky started learning how to make all of the soul food staples. He impressed Sam’s mom with his willingness to help in the kitchen and just generally with the chores around the house, and soon she was doting on him like another son. Bucky had always been a domestic soul, and those weeks spent with Sam’s family would become some of his most cherished memories of the 21st century. Slowly but surely, the pain and anger from Steve’s betrayal began to ebb away.</p><p>That was, until the government unveiled their own ‘Captain America’: the blondest, whitest John Doe (well, John <em>Walker</em>) they could find. They started holding rallies for him up and down the country, spouting nationalistic nonsense that went beyond the bounds of what could comfortably be called patriotism and straight into the realms of right-wing extremism. Bucky didn’t miss how many of the rally attendees were sporting confederate t-shirts, or how much neo-Nazi iconography surfaced in support of this ‘Captain America’. It was sickening.</p><p>Bucky kept waiting for Steve to speak out against it, but nothing came. He could only hope his silence was being forced. The idea of Steve being okay with, or even being party to, this nonsense was a harrowing thought.</p><p>Sam and Bucky monitored developments from the sidelines, with updates from Sharon, Rhodey, Hill, Banner, and Strange, plotting counter measures, but whilst everything was just bubbling under the surface, there wasn’t a whole lot they could actually do. It seemed wrong, waiting for a catastrophe to use in their favour, but what other choice did they have? And of course, their problems didn’t end there.</p><p>Zemo ambushed Bucky one afternoon after a shift at the shelter. He gave Bucky a sickeningly smug smile and began to list off the trigger words which had once held a stranglehold over Bucky’s mind.</p><p><em>Longing, furnace, daybreak, seventeen</em>…</p><p>Bucky let them wash over him, grinding his teeth to keep his emotions in check. The words no longer had him falling into step as a mindless soldier, but they still sparked painful memories. Ones which had been warped, used and twisted until they served Hydra’s plan. Each and every word sparked a memory of Steve: longing for him in a time when they could never be together; all the times the furnace in their building conked out and they were forced to huddle together for warmth, and later when Steve’s core temp ran like the sun and Bucky pressed up against him to stave off the chill of winter in the Ardennes; night shifts at the docks, returning at daybreak to see that Steve had scrounged together a meal for him and was painting by the light of the rising sun; stealing kisses and exploring each other’s bodies the year Bucky turned seventeen…</p><p>They’d never been able to completely wipe Steve from his memory, so they turned those memories against him, instead. Bucky seethed with rage.</p><p>It was easy to school his face into a malicious glare. It was less easy to stand stock still as Zemo glared at him. Pretending to play along was the quickest way of finding out what Zemo wanted.</p><p><em> &lt;&lt;Ready to comply,&gt;&gt; </em>Bucky lied in Russian.</p><p>“Bucky! No!” Sam leapt from his truck and raced towards them, aiming to tackle Zemo to the ground.</p><p><em> &lt;&lt;Stop him,&gt;&gt; </em> Zemo ordered.</p><p>Bucky let his eyes track across to Sam and drew his pistol to aim it at him with an unwavering grip.</p><p>
  <em> &lt;&lt;Don’t kill him yet, we need him alive for what is to come.&gt;&gt; </em>
</p><p>Bucky kept the gun trained on Sam and tried to stay immune to the panic and fear etched into his face.</p><p>
  <em> &lt;&lt;You will break into Camp Cathcart to extract intel. Together we will take down Captain America in all his forms.&gt;&gt; </em>
</p><p>Bucky couldn’t hide his frown. What intel were they hiding in Camp Cathcart? He turned his gun on Zemo and glared. “I don’t do that anymore.” He unloaded the gun and let the bullets fall from his gloved hand, watching panic play across Zemo’s face.</p><p>Bucky hit him, hard, using the gun to backhand him across the face. Zemo crumpled, unconscious, and Bucky wasted no time restraining him.</p><p>“Oh my <em>god</em>.” Sam breathed a shuddering exhale. “I thought… I thought.” He was hyperventilating.</p><p>Bucky pulled a zip tie tight over Zemo’s wrists and kicked him in the ribs to roll him onto his back.</p><p>“It’s alright, Sam. That doesn’t work on me anymore.” Bucky rubbed his hand across Sam’s back and coached him to breathe nice and slow.</p><p>“<em>Fuck</em>. Don’t ever do that to me again,” Sam complained.</p><p>“Wanna go see what they’re hiding in Cathcart?”</p><p>*✧･ﾟ:* ✧*:･ﾟ✧*</p><p>Breaking into secure facilities was a hard-earned skill of Bucky’s, and Cathcart’s security was outdated and minimal, at best. It was all too easy to slip past the perimeter and quietly dispose of the guards he passed with a quiet, non-lethal efficiency, leaving them unconscious and with minimal risk of long-term damage. Bucky began to wonder why Zemo had even needed Bucky to break in here at all – someone as manipulative as him would surely have managed to extract this intel himself? It wasn’t exactly Fort Knox.</p><p>Sam trailed in Bucky’s wake, complaining about missing his wings, covering his six, and trying not to look too intimidated by the way Bucky fought at close range.</p><p>“Holy shit, Barnes. You need to teach me how to do that.”</p><p>Bucky gave a non-committal growl, too hopped-up with adrenaline to manage proper sentences. He swept through the deserted corridors looking for archives or computers of something that might store intel. The facility looked like it hadn’t been used properly in years, and the place had an incongruous mix of old and new – like it had been hastily repaired after sustaining heavy damage. They didn’t find any computers, but they did unearth sturdy fire-resistant filing cabinets in the basement. They grabbed all of the files, stuffing them into a duffel bag they’d brought for that precise reason and scarpered, waiting until they were safely holed up back at Sam’s sisters house before they began to read through any of them.</p><p>Nothing made sense to start with, but the more they read, the more an image began to take shape, and a sickening one, at that.</p><p>Cathcart had been home to Weapons Plus; an offshoot of SSR developed in the fifties to relaunch the Super Soldier Program. It didn’t even look like Hydra had a hand in this; it was all the American government, and it was all horrifying. Bucky knew Howard had eventually perfected the serum; it was what Bucky had been ordered to kill him for, and Bucky knew that the serum worked because of those monsters in Siberia they’d thought Zemo was after last time. What had Bucky failed to appreciate, or even consider previously, was how that serum had been developed. How it had been tested.</p><p>“I’m gonna vomit.” Sam threw down a manila folder in disgust and stalked around the room to burn off some anger.</p><p>Bucky shared Sam’s feelings but kept pushing himself to read. The army had coerced soldiers into signing up as volunteers, and then tested them in their hundreds. Every single soldier had been African American, and Bucky knew that was no accident. Three hundred men, and all but five had died during the procedure. It was Kreischberg all over again, but ten times worse. This was the government flaunting the systemic racism of the country and weaponizing it. So far, he’d found no mention of what had happened to the survivors, but given that there were no records of a black Captain America fighting for justice and liberty in the sixties, Bucky dreaded to think.</p><p>“What did Zemo want with this?” he mused, pouring through the files.</p><p>“To expose it?” Sam’s voice sounded strained.</p><p>“Out of the kindness of his heart?” Bucky scoffed. There was an endgame here somewhere, he just couldn’t see it.</p><p>“We need to know what happened to these men,” Bucky said through gritted teeth as he read through the profiles of the survivors. Or profile. His gut churned again as he flicked through the incident report with a mixture of horror and pride. He was used to the clipped, sanitised language his handlers had used in their reports, he could read between the lines and tell what wasn’t being said.</p><p>There had been an uprising, the survivors revolted against their handlers and tried to bring the place to the ground. They almost succeeded, but ultimately, only one was left standing: Isaiah Bradley. He managed to get away before they could bring him in, and nothing else about him was mentioned anywhere in the reports. The programme had then been placed temporarily on hold and the remaining ‘super soldier samples’ were removed to a different facility for further testing. Bucky had a horrible, vomit-inducing feeling that the ‘samples’ were the other four who had died while fighting back.</p><p>He put the file down and dropped his head in his hands, taking deep, controlled breaths and trying to clear his mind of the rage and anger that welled up until he felt a tangible pressure against his temples.</p><p>“I can’t…I…” Sam threw the file at the wall and stormed upstairs.</p><p>Bucky let him go. Although he was broiling with his own kind of rage, he knew it was a very different sort of anger that must have been eating up Sam, one Bucky would never be able to relate to, one that he felt it was best not to interfere with. Instead, he channelled his own anger into researching anything and everything he could find on Isaiah Bradley, though he didn’t miss the sunset through the windows or the way it burned bright red in the sky. Not the red-orange glow that was normal for a sunset, but something vivid and dark like a blood stain seeping through the clouds. He hoped Banner and Strange were making progress on whatever was causing these weird phenomena.</p><p>It was after dark when he heard Sarah and Darlene return to the house from their evening out. He listened to them bustle around the house, and eventually, he heard Darlene enter the dining room behind him, but Bucky kept his focus firmly on his laptop until she marched over to stand across the table in front of him.</p><p>“What happened?” She demanded. “Sam won’t speak to me.”</p><p>Bucky considered for a second before silently pushing the papers across the table towards her. He watched her reaction as she skimmed through them; her expression became tighter and more pinched, and her mouth pressed into a narrow, angry line. She nodded once then let the papers fall from her hand.</p><p>“No wonder he’s angry.”</p><p>“You don’t seem surprised.”</p><p>Darlene let out a sharp <em>harrumph</em>. “When you’ve lived as long as I have, nothing surprises you anymore.”</p><p>Bucky couldn’t disagree.</p><p>“What are you going to do about it?”</p><p>“I need to find him.” Bucky pushed Isaiah’s profile towards her. After that, Bucky didn’t have a plan.</p><p>“The Black Captain,” Darlene gasped.</p><p>“You know him?”</p><p>“Heard of him,” she corrected. “I thought he was a legend.”</p><p>“Tell me.”</p><p>Bucky quickly learnt he’d been wrong. There <em>had</em> been a black Captain America running around fighting for justice and liberty and equal rights in the sixties, just one without official sanction, one who’d been opposed by the government and hidden from history.</p><p>“Why isn’t he in any of the history books?” Bucky had read extensively on everything he’d missed in the 20th century, how could he have missed this important facet of history?</p><p>“Oh, honey. Black history has always been covered up and overlooked. We have to fight for any shred of representation.”</p><p>“We’ll fix this,” Bucky promised her.</p><p>Darlene gave him a sad smile that made him feel naïve and childish. “You can try.”</p><p>*✧･ﾟ:* ✧*:･ﾟ✧*</p><p>Despite Bucky’s intensive research, despite switching over to search through modern African-American folklore for tales of the ‘Black Captain’, Bucky came up short in his search for Isaiah. What he found instead was a shocking history of death, destruction, and human experimentation that followed in the wake of one Thaddeus Ross. Weapons Plus was officially shut down in the sixties, but shortly afterwards, a young Captain Ross freshly returned from the Vietnam war was put in charge of something called Project Homegrown, which seemed to be the same programme under a different guise. Bucky couldn’t hack his way into any of the results of that programme, but the financial records showed that it was heavily sponsored by a military weapons contractor: Stark Industries.</p><p>Bucky lost track of Ross in the nineties after Howard was killed and the super soldier serum was stolen, but he resurfaced again in 2001 as the head of the Bio-Tech Force Enhancement Project, which appeared to have been responsible for both the Hulk and the Abomination that had wreaked havoc on Harlem. Ross had tracked the Hulk in a worldwide manhunt that verged on being unhinged, but somehow, he stayed in power.</p><p>In 2011, he’d vocally called for Steve to donate his blood for scientific study to supposedly further research into cures for infections and diseases. He had also argued that Captain America belonged under the jurisdiction of the army, not SHIELD. Bucky read that as Ross wanting Steve under his thumb, and shuddered. It made the whole thing with the Accords and the Raft all the more sinister. God. Bucky had thought that ending up back in Hydra’s hands was the worst thing that could have happened to him, but he should have known better. How did that space movie put it? <em>There’s always a bigger fish</em>.</p><p>Bucky hated the super soldier program with every fibre of his being. He hated what had been done to Steve, what had been done to himself. Hated the way it had destroyed those other Winter Soldiers. These latest revelations were a whole new world of horror. Had Steve known? Had they told him in 2011? Once, Bucky would have been sure Steve hadn’t known, but now he couldn’t be sure of anything when it came to Steve. He thought about confronting Steve directly, but he wasn’t sure he was up to the task of seeing Steve again. Not at the moment, not until he’d gotten to the bottom of this mess.</p><p>Before long, Bucky hit a dead end in his research, and there was still the unanswered question of what Zemo had wanted to do with everything. Expose it, possibly, but there was an endgame that Bucky couldn’t see yet. He needed to interrogate Zemo directly.</p><p>If Sam had been speaking to him, Bucky knew he would have cautioned him against it, but Sam was still closed off, distant, grieving for things Bucky knew he’d never understand, so he didn’t trouble Sam with his plan, and called Sharon for back-up, instead. She warned him it was a bad idea, but the CIA weren’t having much luck in their interrogation of Zemo, either; the next logical step was for Bucky to pay him a visit and see if it might spark something. Since he’d tried to use the triggers against Bucky and had violated every condition of his parole in the process, Zemo had been locked back up in a maximum-security facility. After everything Bucky had read, and judging from how they’d worked with Zemo last time, Bucky didn’t entirely trust the CIA anymore, so he ensured a well-timed, short range EMP blast shorted out the security feed when he stepped into the interrogation room; giving him five minutes of conversation unimpeded by the CIA listening in.</p><p>Zemo sneered at Bucky from the across the table he’d been handcuffed to, looking entirely too self-assured. As if this was all still part of his plan.</p><p>“My goals have not changed, Sergeant Barnes,” Zemo said with pride. “I wish to see an empire fall.”</p><p>“Stark’s dead. The Avengers are disbanded. Their empire’s already fallen,” Bucky challenged.</p><p>“Yet the government wheels out a new Captain America. Even more nationalistic than the last.”</p><p>Bucky’s jaw clenched. Steve was many things, but that was never one of them.</p><p>“If we expose the misdeeds of Weapons Plus at the right time, we can bring them down for good.” Zemo smiled.</p><p>So, it was the same plan as last time, Bucky mused: drop a truth bomb at the opportune moment and reap the benefits from the chaos that followed. Except this time, Bucky would probably welcome those consequences.</p><p>“Why use the triggers? If that’s your aim, we might have worked with you.”</p><p>“Would you really have trusted me, Barnes? Do you?”</p><p>Not as far as he could throw him. “No.”</p><p>Zemo seemed to welcome Bucky’s honesty. “The triggers were not entirely for you.” He shrugged. “It was insurance. To make sure the Falcon acted as required.”</p><p>Bucky’s stomach roiled. Ah yes. <em>Insurance</em>. Bucky’s utter compliance had been used as a bargaining chip before. The Asset was too important to risk losing, and his handlers had sometimes threatened to make him commit suicide if they couldn’t get their wishes past their higher-ups. Bucky scratched at his throat reflexively.</p><p>He huffed out a breath. He hated the idea of trusting Zemo – even entertaining the idea was making his skin crawl – but Bucky couldn’t deny that the man had a track record for optimal timing and maximum impact. This stuff needed to be exposed; it needed to create shockwaves through the general public and spur people into action. He grimaced. It was a very bad day indeed when you had to make a deal with the devil to take down something worse.</p><p>*✧･ﾟ:* ✧*:･ﾟ✧*</p><p>Sam eventually opened up to Bucky. “I grew up hearing stories of him,” he said. “The Black Captain. It’s why I signed up, I wanted to fight for good, like he had.” Sam dropped his head into his hands. “God, I’m such a fool. I was so proud when I became the Falcon. Thought I could follow in his footsteps, be a positive role model or something stupid. You know how happy I was when I saw Falcon merch in the shops, kids dressed up as me for birthdays and Halloween? When Steve gave me the shield, I thought I was gonna finally make his legacy legit, you know? An <em>official</em> Black Captain America. Of course, that was never going to happen.” He gestured angrily at the anklet on his foot, which although not currently transmitting, was still there for show. It was a painful reminder of just how far the government had removed Sam from being Captain America.</p><p>“We’ll make this right, Sam.”</p><p>“How?”</p><p>Bucky told him Zemo’s plan, and how he’d very reluctantly offered to help.</p><p>“You’re even more of an idiot than I am,” Sam chastised. “Did you forget that this guy bombed the UN? He <em>killed T'Chaka</em>. Whatever he has planned, it’s not going to be pretty.”</p><p>“I know!” Bucky ground his teeth at the reminder. Zemo had tried, twice now, to turn Bucky into a mindless monster. He’d killed or injured who-knew-how-many people in his quest to bring down the Avengers, including the former King of Wakanda. Bucky knew that. He already felt guilty for even entertaining the idea of following Zemo’s plan, but right then he couldn’t see a better one. “We’ll burn that bridge when we get to it,” he huffed. “Besides, I thought you’d want to see him.”</p><p>“Who?”</p><p>“Bradley. Zemo tracked him down.”</p><p>*✧･ﾟ:* ✧*:･ﾟ✧*</p><p>They followed Zemo’s intel and found Isaiah in a secure ward of a nursing facility, not so much run down as severely lacking in the required funds. The woman on the front desk tried to bar them access ,claiming that Bradley was “unstable,” but Sharon flashed her badge and they were waved through with only disgruntled looks. A nurse met them at the entrance of the ward and gave them a rundown on Isaiah’s condition as they walked. His mind and body were failing, leaving him with reduced cognitive function. He would be confused, irrational, potentially insulting towards them, the nurse warned before she opened the door.</p><p>Bucky couldn’t go in. He took one look through the window in the door at the frail body being spoon-fed by a carer, and shrunk back against the far wall. Sharon stayed with him, nodding for Sam to go in alone.</p><p>Bucky slumped into a plastic chair along the wall of the corridor and let his shoulders hunch around his ears.</p><p>“Will that happen to me?” He’d never had much cause to worry about the long-term effects of his knock-off serum before. He never thought he’d live to see it become a problem. But in Wakanda, he started trying to spot any differences between him and Steve. Steve, who never seemed to age, who still looked as golden and youthful as he had when he’d pulled Bucky out of Kreischberg. More battleworn, maybe, but not older. After the snap he’d looked the same too; the years had touched his heart and his mind, but not his body. But even Steve’s perfect serum had failed at some point, hadn’t it? Or how else was he so old, now? If that had happened to Steve, what was waiting for Bucky over the hill?</p><p>“I don’t think so.” Sharon attempted to reassure him. “Bradley was subjected to more than just the serum.”</p><p>“What?” Bucky’s head snapped up.</p><p>“When they arrested him –”</p><p>“Wait, they arrested him? Is that why he dropped off the face of the earth in the early seventies?”</p><p>“– they carried on experimenting on him.” Sharon spoke in a hushed, appalled whisper. “Apparently he wasn’t released until Fury pushed for it in 2003. He’s been here ever since. I never knew.”</p><p>“I don’t think many people did.” God, he hoped they didn’t. Had Steve known? Bucky felt sick to his stomach. All of that pomp and circumstance for Captain America. A whole wing of the Smithsonian given over to Steve and his heroics, all the while Isaiah – who’d volunteered as Steve had, who’d stood up to fight like Steve had – had been persecuted for it and left to suffer. Bucky could only hope that Steve hadn’t known. The alternative was too awful to bear.</p><p>*✧･ﾟ:* ✧*:･ﾟ✧*</p><p>They took the Weapons Plus files to Rhodey, who reacted with much of the same indignation as Sam. The problem was, even as newly-minted Brigadier General, there wasn’t anything he could do.</p><p>“This all had official sanction.” He sighed. “<em>Technically</em>, and I say this with disgust, no laws have been broken.”</p><p>Sam began spluttering a stream of outrage, and Bucky gave Rhodey his best Winter Soldier stare.</p><p>“What do you want me to say? That we’ll leak all of this to the internet? This is highly classified information. The country is barely holding itself together after the blip, we can’t kick open another hornet’s nest like the SHIELD fiasco. Yes, SHIELD was compromised by Hydra; it had to go. But this is different. This is warfare, this is always how things have been done.”</p><p>“Did you know?” Sam demanded.</p><p>“People have been trying to make super soldiers for as long as there’s been war,” Rhodey returned. It wasn’t an answer. His shoulders slumped. “I didn’t know it was this bad.”</p><p>Sam swore up a storm.</p><p>“We <em>need</em> to expose this,” Bucky insisted.</p><p>“Just this, then.” Rhodey gestured with the dossier they’d pulled together on Isaiah. “Not the rest of it. I <em>promise</em> you, other countries are doing this shit, too. You leak the rest of it, and you only give them ideas.”</p><p>Bucky was getting fed up making compromises, but he supposed this was better than nothing. The rest could come out in the wash later. “Fine.”</p><p>Sam glowered at him.</p><p>“We need it to be broadcast. At a specific time. Any journalists you trust?”</p><p>“Trust is a strong word,” Rhodey scoffed. “But Everhart does her research. She’ll make this stick.”</p><p>“Good.”</p><p>“What do we do now?” Sam asked later, still fuming as they drove back to his sister’s house.</p><p>“We move to step three.”</p><p>“I still don’t trust Zemo.”</p><p>“Me neither,” Bucky agreed.</p><p>“What’s step three?”</p><p>Bucky grimaced. This was the step Sam was definitely going to have a problem with. “Step three, we get arrested.”</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Please don't hate me! I promise everything works out in the end!!! (To pre-empt angry comments, yeah - I don't like the idea of Bucky 'working with' Zemo either, so I want to make it clear, they're not working <em>with</em> him, just exploiting his plan for their own gains). </p><p>ps, I know you still all hate MCU Steve in this fic, and I don't blame you at the moment. We will hear his side of things eventually and it's probably not what your fearing...</p><p>Please leave a comment if you can! And I promise Planet Hulk will turn up soon 💙💙💙</p><p>Check back next friday for Chapter I.II.ii and the end of Part One.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. I . II . ii</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Thank you for your comments! 💙💙💙</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <strong>I.II.ii</strong>
</p>
<p>“This plan is insane,” Sam complained.</p>
<p>“Your suit is insane,” Bucky muttered under his breath, taking furtive glances around the crowded bar they were in.</p>
<p>“This might be my last night as a free man,” Sam grinned back. “And we might make the news later, I want to look fine.”</p>
<p>“There’ll be fighting later,” Bucky countered. He was wearing an approximation of his tac gear with sensible boots and a leather jacket. Sam, on the other hand, was wearing a patterned suit that looked like it belonged on the red carpet rather than in a bar.</p>
<p>“I’ve got my Kevlar underneath and these pants have some stretch. I’ll be fine.”</p>
<p>“Whatever you say.”</p>
<p>They bought drinks but didn’t drink them, waiting for Sharon to get into position.</p>
<p>“Alright, we’re set,” Sharon said through their ear-pieces.</p>
<p>Bucky glanced over his shoulder to see her sitting in a booth behind them. She gave him a discreet nod before pulling out her phone and calling in a sighting of Sam Wilson.</p>
<p>“Negative. Our tracking shows he’s inside the limits of his registered residence,” the FBI dispatch agent replied; the phone call was being transmitted into all of their earpieces.</p>
<p>“Well check again,” Sharon snapped, “because he’s standing at the bar right in front of me, with the Winter Soldier.”</p>
<p>“Are you sure?”</p>
<p>“Am I sure? Gee, let’s see. Six feet tall, brown hair and a metal arm? Yeah, I’d say I’m pretty sure.”</p>
<p>There were the sounds of someone scrambling around on the other end of the call. Sam smirked at Bucky as they listened to the dispatcher panic. Bucky had technically been granted a pardon, but that was back when everyone thought he was dead. They couldn’t rescind the pardon without cause, but plenty of people were still terrified of him.</p>
<p>“But the tracking shows –”</p>
<p>“Maybe it glitched,” Sharon suggested. “Try turning it off and on again.”</p>
<p>“Rebooting,” the dispatch agent informed them.</p>
<p>Sam timed it perfectly, flipping the tracking from Redwing to the band on his ankle and setting off the alert that he’d broken his perimeter. They listened, grinning as Sharon calmly coordinated things from her end of the phone call, warning the dispatch office that Sam and Bucky looked armed and dangerous and that ordinary police officers weren’t going to be up to the task of bringing them in. It was amusing, listening to her manipulate them with such ease; giving them a glimpse of the formidable SHIELD agent she’d once been. She had them eating out of the palm of her hand. Local police were called in to set up a perimeter a block away from the bar they were in, with orders not to engage, but instead to wait for back-up which, thanks to Sharon’s careful manipulation, was to come in the form of the new Captain America.</p>
<p>“ETA twenty minutes, don’t let them leave the bar,” dispatch confirmed.</p>
<p>“Copy that.”</p>
<p>Bucky glanced back once again and Sharon winked.</p>
<p>“So far, so good,” Bucky muttered under his breath to Sam.</p>
<p>“Don’t get cocky. This could still go terribly wrong.”</p>
<p>“You scared?” Bucky smirked.</p>
<p>“Not if you’re not.” Sam smirked back.</p>
<p>They waited quietly in the bar until Bucky’s enhanced hearing picked up the unmistakable sound of a helicopter hovering above the roof.</p>
<p>“They’re here.”</p>
<p>Trying to limit collateral damage, they decided to take the fight outside and they stepped outside the front door just as ‘Captain America’ was rappelling from the chopper. Up close, he looked nothing like Steve, his uniform was different too, they'd opted for horizontal red stripes rather than the vertical red and white that made Steve's uniform so iconic. But it looked like he’d modelled his serious face off those terrible PSAs that Steve had been forced to film. Bucky wasn’t sure if he wanted to laugh or cry.</p>
<p>“Samuel Wilson, you’re under arrest.”</p>
<p>“Since when is Cap a cop?” Bucky wanted to know.</p>
<p>“Yeah, Steve would never,” Sam agreed.</p>
<p>“You have the right to remain silent. Anything you say can and will be used against you in a court of law. You have the right to an attorney. If you cannot afford an attorney, one will be provided for you.”</p>
<p>Bucky ground his teeth, and the pair of them stood their ground.</p>
<p>“If you won’t come easily,” Walker warned, “then we’ll have to do this the hard way.”</p>
<p>“I’d like to see you try.”</p>
<p>It was hardly a fair fight, even with Bucky holding back – Walker hadn’t exactly figured out how to fight effectively with the shield and the back-up he’d brought were easily rendered unconscious. But they wanted it to get drawn out. They wanted the press crews to turn up and televise the event, and they wanted Walker to do something drastic – like pulling out his gun and shooting Bucky in the arm – on national television for all the world to see.</p>
<p>“Mother<em>fucker,</em>” Bucky gasped as he clasped his right arm and dropped to his knee.</p>
<p>“Bucky!”</p>
<p>“Don’t,” Walker said warningly as Sam made to help Bucky.</p>
<p>“I’m fine,” Bucky spat out. It was hardly the worst injury he’d ever had. He gingerly prodded around his arm with his metal hand; it felt like a clean shot, right the way through. The bone didn’t feel broken. It would heal in a matter of days.</p>
<p>Walker turned his gun on Sam. “You’re coming with me.”</p>
<p>“You sure you want to do that?” Bucky hissed through gritted teeth as he stood up. “I’d check the news if I were you.” He flexed the fingers of his right hand, his muscles screaming in pain, but it wasn’t debilitating any more. “This has been broadcasting all evening.”</p>
<p>On cue, Sharon flicked a projector on, illuminating the outside of the bar with Christine Everhart’s special broadcast about Isaiah Bradley and the terrible secrets of Weapons Plus. The programme was currently flashing through pictures and details of his incarceration.</p>
<p>“…and it seems history is doomed to repeat itself. I caught up with former Captain America, Steve Rogers, who gave us this message.”</p>
<p>The broadcast cut to an image of Steve looking old and wrinkled, with sun-spots dotting his face. The shock of seeing him again was enough to send Bucky back to his knees. He hadn’t expected this.</p>
<p>“I am shocked and appalled by the treatment Isaiah Bradley received at the hands of our government. America is supposed to stand for justice and liberty, and that someone who fought for those ideals the same way I always have could be subjected to injustices like this is a travesty. I extend my sincerest apologies to those men who gave their lives in Cathcart, and to the families who have had to live with their loss. This is not the America I fought and was willing to lay down my life for, this is not the America I represented. To see my successor being used to support this racist ideology and watching nationalism rise in his wake is something I cannot stand for. I have kept my silence until now, but I will not sit idly by anymore. When I passed on the mantle, I was very clear in my wishes that the position be given to Samuel Wilson, who most of you know as the Falcon. He is a good man who has proved himself worthy, time and again, to take up the shield. That he was denied this role because the government still won’t allow a black man to be Captain America sickens me. America, we need to do better.”</p>
<p>Bucky’s throat felt dry. Steve’s voice was full of righteous anger, almost like the Steve he’d once known. Where had <em>this </em>Steve been when he stepped up onto the platform and come back as an old man? Bucky couldn’t reconcile the man who’d broken his heart with the one on the screen. Everything felt dizzy and confused, which wasn’t helpful in the middle of a fight. Bucky stared at Sam to ground himself and couldn’t help but give a little smile at Sam’s awed expression.</p>
<p>“Is that true?” Walker was white as a sheet and rooted to the spot.</p>
<p>“Every word,” Bucky spat.</p>
<p>Walker dropped the shield and, with a shaky arm, lowered his gun. He clipped it back into the holster on his belt and reached up to unclip the clasps on his cowl. He threw the headpiece to the ground and shook his head. “I’m sorry. I didn’t know. None of it. I –” he glanced at Sam, looking uncertain. “I would never have accepted if I knew. They told me,” he shook his head again and bit his tongue. “Doesn’t matter. This is yours. It should always have been yours.” He reverently picked up the shield and passed it to Sam.</p>
<p>Sam held it at arm’s length like it was a dirty diaper.</p>
<p>For a moment the three of them stood in silence as the crowd that had gathered on the street, phones out, recording everything, waited with bated breath to see what would happen next. The moment was broken when the sound of sirens and an approaching motorcade roared from a nearby street.</p>
<p>“Still sick of running?” Bucky asked Sam.</p>
<p>“No.” Sam slipped his arm through the straps on the shield and held it, reluctantly, by his side. “Come with us,” he offered to Walker. “The fallout from this is gonna be bad for you if you stay.”</p>
<p>The sirens grew louder. Walker considered for a moment before nodding. The three of them set off sprinting down a side street where they’d stashed a van, ready and waiting to whisk them away.</p>
<p>*✧･ﾟ:* ✧*:･ﾟ✧*</p>
<p>The incident and the exposé were all any of the news stations could talk about for days afterwards. People compared Sam’s attempted arrest to Bradley’s, and began to champion him as Captain America. There were marches and demonstrations, calls for everyone who’d been involved with Weapons Plus to be brought to task. Sam, Bucky and Walker went underground as they waited to see what the fallout would be. They ditched the tracker on Sam’s ankle and sent Redwing on a long flight out towards the Sonoran Desert as they headed up the East Coast. Nothing in the exposé could be linked to Ross, other than burying Sam’s claim to be Captain America, but he disappeared from the public eye, which caused a stir in and of itself.</p>
<p>President Ellis refused to answer any questions on the matter, trying to gloss over everything with his practised politician’s shine, but neither the press, nor the public, nor the other politicians were satisfied.</p>
<p>“He’s looking for us,” Walker surmised. </p>
<p>“No shit, Sherlock,” Sam grumbled.</p>
<p>Ross was the Vice President, it should have been below his paygrade. But if being Secretary of State hadn’t stopped him getting his hands dirty on the Raft, Bucky didn’t think this would, either.</p>
<p>“We can use it to our advantage. Draw him out,” Bucky said, recalling Zemo’s plan. Somehow, he'd predicted that all of this would happen. “Step four.” Bucky was a little concerned that he hadn’t figured out Zemo’s end goal yet, but as all of this was playing to their aims, too, Bucky didn’t argue.</p>
<p>“How do we do that?” Sam asked.</p>
<p>“Show him you're serious about playing the role.”</p>
<p>Sam gave a wry chuckle and shook his head. “If you’re gonna fight a war, you gotta wear a uniform.” It sounded like he was quoting something. “Where the hell am I gonna get a Cap uniform? No offence, but I don’t much care for yours,” he told Walker. “And I’m sure as hell not going to a costume shop.”</p>
<p>“Fort Meade,” Walker piped up. “It’s where they stashed your wings. They’ve also got some alternate uniforms they made for me to try out. They didn’t go over so well with the focus groups.”</p>
<p>“Why not?”</p>
<p>“Too…flashy?”</p>
<p>Sam grinned. “Sounds like my kind of suit.”</p>
<p>*✧･ﾟ:* ✧*:･ﾟ✧*</p>
<p>Fort Meade was easy enough to infiltrate; Sam had done it once before with Steve and Natasha’s help, and sneaking into facilities like that was literally what Bucky had been trained for. As Walker had promised, Sam’s wings were locked away in a steel crate, and three other Captain America uniforms were boxed up in the same storage vault. One of them looked suspiciously like Sam’s former Falcon suit but done up in patriotic red, white and blue.</p>
<p>“Yeah, I think someone must have started designing that with you in mind,” Walker admitted. “Before they brought me on board.”</p>
<p>Another of the suits was a black, red and white version of Walker’s current outfit, which Walker opted to wear instead, and the third was a carbon copy of Steve’s last suit (<em>before</em> he’d ripped it to shreds after the mess in Berlin). There was a fourth box stacked alongside them which caught Bucky’s attention. It had the words ‘Bold Urban Commandos’ stamped across the top. When Bucky broke it open, he was surprised to see a blue leather jacket that looked strikingly similar to the one he’d worn in WW2.</p>
<p>“The fuck is this?”</p>
<p>“Ah, yeah.” Walker sheepishly explained Ross’ ‘brilliant’ idea of giving Walker a back-up strike team modelled on the Howling Commandos, with uniforms to match. Apparently, the focus groups had shot it down, citing poor taste.</p>
<p>“Too fucking right,” Bucky grumbled. Still, it was a nice jacket. Well-made and reinforced. “I’m keeping this.”</p>
<p>*✧･ﾟ:* ✧*:･ﾟ✧*</p>
<p>Sam pulled Bucky aside after donning his new suit. “I don’t know if I can do this,” he said in a low voice. The new uniform suited him to a tee, but Sam looked more uncomfortable in it than Bucky had ever seen him before. “I can’t stand for that legacy, Bucky. I just can’t.”</p>
<p>“Then don’t. That’s never what Captain America was meant to stand for.” Did people forget that Steve founded the first non-segregated unit in the war? Did they forget that he was a poor child of an Irish-immigrant single mother? How had his rank had become synonymous with white republicanism, with everything that Steve had hated? “Show them,” he urged Sam, gripping his shield arm. “Give them hope and show them what it’s meant to be.”</p>
<p>Sam shook his head, unconvinced.</p>
<p>“Look, if nothing else that suit is good protection and the shield’s a damn useful weapon,” Bucky reasoned. “This is a demonstration, to draw Ross out and give him the comeuppance he deserves, okay? You can burn it all when this is through,” Bucky practically pleaded. Sam didn’t just bounce back from bullet wounds like Bucky did, and things were about to get hairy.</p>
<p>Breaking in had been easy. Breaking out again would be another matter, especially when they wanted to make enough racket to grab Ross’ attention, but without being killed in the process. Coincidentally, it seemed like someone had tipped Ross off about their plan and he appeared – backed by his private army – the moment they sounded the alarm.</p>
<p>The three of them fought well together. Walker moved much better unencumbered without the shield, and Sam and Bucky were used to going up against terrible odds. For a moment, it seemed like they might take the upper hand. Better yet was when Sharon appeared over their comms promising support just as soon as she’d got the proper warrant. Ross had overstepped by attacking Fort Meade without clearance, and the army, the CIA, and the FBI were scrambling through the official channels to finally mobilise against him. Everything would work out if the three of them could just hold on for long enough.</p>
<p>They fought their way out to the upper level of the compound, and everything was going so well until Bucky spotted Zemo casually coordinating with Ross’ men. Bucky froze. He’d suspected that Zemo would have been playing both sides, but he’d never expected to see him standing there so brazenly. And even though Bucky had been waiting for Zemo to double-cross them, it didn’t mean the betrayal didn’t still sting. What was even more concerning was the detonator in his hands. Bucky noticed it before anyone else, and lifted his rifle to shoot without hesitation. But he’d been pulling his shots all day, unwilling or incapable of making the headshots that had earned him such a fearsome reputation during the war, or the deadly strikes of the Winter Soldier.</p>
<p>The bullet cut through Zemo’s shoulder and he fell to his knees. Bucky was on him in an instant, metal hand wrapped around Zemo’s throat, squeezing tight as his eyes bulged and he grappled for breath. Bucky only intended to choke him to unconsciousness. Zemo could also answer for his crimes via the proper channels of justice – Bucky could only hope they’d give him a longer sentence this time – and he was through playing executioner.</p>
<p>At least, that’s what would have happened, if Zemo hadn’t had one final trick up his sleeve.</p>
<p>“…Sss….spuh…” Zemo gasped. “…<em>sputnik</em>.”</p>
<p>Bucky’s world went white. Something snapped in his brain, like an elastic band being pinged against his skull. He didn’t feel the ground as it rushed up to meet him. Didn’t feel the blood gushing from his nose.</p>
<p>(“Barnes!”)</p>
<p>(“Oh god, no, Bucky!”)</p>
<p>Sounds were distant and muffled as if he was hearing them from another room or from underwater.</p>
<p>(“All forms of Captain America, Sergeant. All forms.”) Zemo knelt over Bucky, and his form swam blurry above Bucky’s eyes, which were unable to move or focus on anything. Zemo’s blurry outline clutched at his shoulder with one hand and used the other to squeeze the trigger on the detonator. A shock wave rippled around them, and everything fell silent.</p>
<p>*✧･ﾟ:* ✧*:･ﾟ✧*</p>
<p>Bucky lay there for eons, unmoored on the raft of consciousness as his brain pieced itself back together from the muted trigger word. A kill code, his foggy brain supplied for him. Something buried so far in the back of his consciousness that Shuri had been unable to find it. It hadn’t killed him though; Bucky was pretty sure he wasn’t dead. Feeling was slowly creeping back into his limbs like tiny daggers, or the static of an untuned TV that he could feel deep within his bones.</p>
<p>He coughed and spluttered, gurgling blood that he’d swallowed from his nose. He tried to roll, agony blaring through him as he managed to turn onto his side and spit the blood from his mouth.</p>
<p>It took another age before he attempted to stand, bracing himself on a shaky knee and using his metal arm to push himself up from the floor.</p>
<p>“Barnes?” Sharon’s voice filtered through to him, and then soft hands were on him, taking his weight and supporting him.</p>
<p>He tried to hold his own, but his knees buckled and he went down, dragging Sharon down with him.</p>
<p>“It’s okay, don’t try to stand,” she told him with a firm but gentle voice. She held his chin and peered into his eyes testing his cognitive reflexives by waving a finger in front of his face. His eyes tracked the movement, and she seemed pleased. “We thought you’d died.”</p>
<p>“So did I.” He fumbled through the words in an accent that could have belonged to any number of nationalities, or maybe a combination of all of them.</p>
<p>“Bucky!” A whoosh and a stomp marking Sam’s graceful landing echoed behind them. Bucky turned to him, squinting against the pain of focusing his eyes. How did something normally second nature suddenly require him to use so many muscles? Sam looked taller, he had the shield strapped proudly to his arm, and his chest was puffed out.</p>
<p>“I thought you were dead,” Sam surged forwards and wrapped Bucky in a bone-crushing hug.</p>
<p>“Thought you didn’t care,” Bucky mumbled, trying for teasing, landing somewhere bland and expressionless, but nevertheless recognisable as a Brooklyn twang.</p>
<p>Sam barked a laugh and stepped back, appraising Bucky. “What happened?”</p>
<p>“Kill code.”</p>
<p>“But you’re not dead?”</p>
<p>“Told you, brain doesn’t work like that anymore.” Bucky tried to stand up again. He made it all the way to his feet this time and looked down at Zemo who was crumpled next to him in the dust. He’d bled out into a pool of rusted, reddish brown. His face was ghostly pale, fixed into a final gloating smirk. But whatever he had done, it hadn’t worked. Sam was still standing – Captain America was still standing. Walker too, looking a little battle-worn behind them.</p>
<p>“What did Zemo do?” Bucky asked, looking around at the mess of the facility. The place looked run down, but it was still in one piece. The air shimmered like a mirage and the clouds seemed to pulse, but Bucky couldn’t be sure that wasn’t just the result of his aching eyes.</p>
<p>“Electromagnetic pulse, meant to detonate several bombs set around the place. I think he wanted to bring the whole place down on top of you,” Sharon explained, looking smug. “We found and disarmed the bombs before the battle even started. I knew Zemo must have been planning something else. He worked too hard to get everyone here at the same time.”</p>
<p>Smart. Very smart. “I’m glad someone on our team has brains.” Bucky gave Sharon a smile. “Thank you.”</p>
<p>“Don’t thank me yet, we still have to make sure Ross faces justice.”</p>
<p>She departed swiftly, delivering orders to the swarm of agents and officers that had descended on the facility like locusts. Where had they been during the battle?</p>
<p>Bucky’s brain hurt too much to care. It was over. Ross was injured and in custody. Zemo was dead. It was all over. He took a hesitant step forward, shuffling lead-footed through the debris on the floor.</p>
<p>“And you need medical attention.” Sam gripped Bucky’s arm. “Now.”</p>
<p>For once Bucky didn’t try and disagree. He let Sam walk him away from the battleground just focusing on breathing nice and slowly.</p>
<p>“So, <em>Captain America,</em>” Bucky nodded at Sam’s new-found confidence with the uniform and the shield. “How does it feel?”</p>
<p>“It’s growing on me.” Sam grinned, looking buoyant and happy.</p>
<p>Bucky found himself grinning back. They shuffled towards a low wall where Bucky could sit and catch his breath. A shadow flickered across the sky and the grass pulsed, looking purple for a second. Bucky put it down to his messed-up brain. But then there was a shriek behind them.</p>
<p>“What the <em>hell</em>?” Sam took off running before Bucky had even turned to face the scene.</p>
<p>A great fissure was being ripped through the very fabric of the air. Translucent images pressed densely on top of each other shone through the gap, like ink visible through the thin pages of a bible. Bucky squinted. He saw desert plains, great snowy mountains, nebulas of deepest midnight blue. Something had most definitely snapped in his mind. But, if that was the case, how was Sam seeing it too?</p>
<p>Sam unfurled his wings and leapt into the air, swooping towards the fissure and circling it to make an assessment.</p>
<p>“Anyone got any clue what this is?” Sam asked through their comms. “We need to send these visuals to Banner. This is some <em>freaky </em>shit.”</p>
<p>Dread coiled in Bucky’s gut. He felt the wind stirring, and all at once a vortex spun out from the fissure. “Sam get away from there! Get back!”</p>
<p>Sam beat his wings as powerfully as he could, but he was no match for the supernatural forces at play.</p>
<p>Bucky could only screech, “SAM!” as the wind picked up and Sam was sucked through.</p>
<p>Light flashed and pulsed, blinding Bucky, and he stumbled backwards, landing on his ass with a thump. When the glare burned into his retinas had receded enough for him to see, he scrambled to his feet and ran in a staggered half-crouched to where Sam had disappeared. The fissure was gone, clear blue sky hung in its place, and there was a lump on the floor where he might have fallen. But the lump was too big, and too white to be Sam. Bucky hurried over anyway, still calling for Sam as he ran.</p>
<p>The figure groaned as Bucky got close, emerging from the crumpled heap with a series of grunts. He unfolded himself to a towering height, strongly built and strangely dressed, blonde hair braided down his back. An Asgardian, Bucky guessed.</p>
<p>“Are you hurt?” There were thick scars criss-crossing over the man’s back, but they looked like old injuries.</p>
<p>The man tensed at the sound of Bucky’s voice.</p>
<p>“It’s alright.” Bucky held his hands up in a universal show of peace, or what he hoped was one, anyway. “You’re gonna be alright.”</p>
<p>“<em>Bucky?”</em> The man turned and Bucky saw a flash of the blue eyes that he knew oh so, so well.</p>
<p>“<em>Steve</em>?” Bucky blinked, unable to believe his eyes. The man before him was most definitely Steve Rogers, but not a version that Bucky had ever seen before. Long, sun-bleached hair fell about his eyes, fallen free from the low ponytail that fell across his shoulder. A scar cut across his forehead and another slashed across his cheek. He was bulkier than Bucky had ever known him to be, his broad shoulders and thick arms practically bursting through the ripped remains of his clothes, clothes that looked almost gladiatorial. But as he stepped forwards, hesitantly at first, and cupped Bucky’s jaw with a calloused hand, it was with the same gentle touch of someone who knew what it was to be small and who handled his strength with care.</p>
<p>“Bucky?” Tears welled up in Steve’s blue eyes.</p>
<p>When Steve pulled Bucky in for a hug, he embraced him in a way that felt immediately like home. It wasn’t <em>his</em> Steve, it shouldn’t have been so familiar, but Bucky melted against Steve’s chest and let himself be held, feeling an ache he’d been carrying since Wakanda finally ebb away.</p>
<p>“Am I dead?” Bucky asked in a low voice. It was the only explanation that made sense.</p>
<p>“I don’t think so.” Steve brought a hand up to rest at the nape of Bucky’s neck and stepped back to survey him. “You’re hurt?”</p>
<p>Bucky wiped at his nose with the back of his hand, and it came away coated with blood that was only just beginning to dry and crust on his skin.</p>
<p>“Just a nosebleed.” Though perhaps not ‘just’; he glanced down and saw blood smeared down his chest. He felt dizzy. Steve reached out to steady him, and Bucky leant into the touch. Tempting as it was to curl against Steve and ignore the rest of the world, Bucky had two very pressing questions that needed answering. “Where did you come from? And where’s Sam?”</p>
<p>But before either of those questions could be answered, the blood loss and the consequences of whatever Zemo had done to his brain caught up with him. Black spots appeared in his vision and he crumpled, thankful that a pair of strong arms caught him before he could hit the ground. </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>This marks the end of Part One!</p>
<p>There will be a short hiatus as I focus on my NASBB, but check back soon for <strong>Part Two: Planet Hulk</strong></p>
<p>💙💙💙💙💙</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0005"><h2>5. II . I . i</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>I'm back with Part Two! There are five chapters in this part, which will be posted every other Saturday 💙💙💙 This part covers Planet Hulk Steve's story 😊😊</p>
<p><strong>Warning</strong> for MAJOR SPOILERS for Planet Hulk, you don't need to have read the comic, because this is basically a novelisation of it, but I do highly reccommend reading it anyway because it's brilliant. If some of the dialogue sounds a little odd - it's probaby because it's taken straight from the comic. </p>
<p>Also <strong>Warning</strong>, that this comic is one of the saddest things I've ever read....so, yeah (there's a reason Plant Hulk Steve needs a happy ending.....)</p>
<p>I hope you enjoy!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <strong>Part Two: Planet Hulk</strong>
</p>
<p>
  <strong>  </strong>
</p>
<p>
  <span class="u"> <strong>II.I. The Life of You &amp; Me</strong> </span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>They say I'm a nihilist, 'cause I can't see</em><br/>
<em>Any decent rhyme or reason for the life of you and me</em><br/>
<em>But I believe in what I'm feeling, and I'm falling for you</em><br/>
<em>This world is gonna end, but 'til then, I'll give you everything I have</em><br/>
<strong>
    <em>- Sam Fender, Hypersonic Missiles</em>
  </strong>
</p>
<p>
  <strong>II.I.i.</strong>
</p>
<p>Steve had known suffering his whole life, but that didn’t make dealing with it any easier. As a kid he’d been sickly, constantly in and out of hospital as they tried to treat his fucked-up lungs, his weak heart, the bend in his spine, and the persistent infections in his ears that the doctors warned might leave him deaf one day. He put on a brave face and powered through; his ma already had too much to deal with, juggling parenting a sick child by herself and working double shifts at the hospital to try and make ends meet. Steve learned to cope with his chronic pain, learned not to make a fuss, learned how to get by on his own.</p>
<p>That all changed when he met Bucky Barnes. Steve was forced to spend his tenth birthday in the children’s ward recovering from a nasty attack of angina when Bucky was brought in with a broken wrist. Steve immediately recognised him from school as the popular kid in the year above his. He’d recently transferred in from another school but had already fallen in with the popular crowd. Steve had seen him holding court in the cafeteria and swanning down the hallways surrounded by admirers. He expected Bucky to ignore him, or worse. Steve didn’t exactly have the best reputation at school, seeing as he was absent more often than not, and something of a troublemaker when he was there. No matter how hard he tried to stay out of them, Steve was forever ending up in fights with kids twice his size, or in heated debates with his teachers.</p>
<p>But when Bucky’s crowd of a family left for the evening, Steve was immensely surprised to find that Bucky struck up a conversation with him, instead. Bucky was a little loopy from the painkillers, but then again, so was Steve. He had no recollection of what they talked about, only that Steve had laughed – truly and deeply laughed with someone other than his ma for the first time in forever. When Bucky found out that it was Steve’s birthday, he’d charmed the nurse into bringing them extra chocolate pudding pots, and even though he wasn’t meant to, he scrambled out of his bed and hauled his IV drip over to Steve’s bed so that he could sit curled up by Steve’s feet to play cards until they both passed out from exhaustion. Steve blearily remembered his ma finishing her shift on the other side of the hospital and coming to wish him a good night, sweeping his hair off his forehead to plant a kiss there, before carrying Bucky back to his own bed and checking the splint on his wrist.</p>
<p>Steve had assumed that Bucky would ignore him at school when he was finally released a few days later, but instead, Bucky sought him out at lunchtime, and in the playground, and when Steve next got himself into a fight behind the bike sheds, Bucky was there to help him finish it, for once. Soon, Bucky was round at Steve’s house every weekend, dragging him out to play in the little fenced-off park a block from Steve’s apartment building when he was well enough, or inviting him down to Coney Island when Bucky’s mom took him and his sister.</p>
<p>Bucky had a habit of picking up strays, feeding the alley cats and dogs that loitered around their neighbourhood, and he even hid a bird in his room one summer, coaxing it back from a bent wing after it had failed to fledge outside his bedroom window. Steve sometimes felt like he was one of Bucky’s strays, following him around like a useless little thing – though Steve knew that was his anxiety talking; Bucky never, ever made him feel like his presence was anything less than wanted.</p>
<p>When Steve was home ill from school, Bucky would turn up in the evenings with the work he’d missed – even though Bucky wasn’t in any of his classes – and he’d just sit and read, or let Steve play with his Gameboy whilst he was unable to do much more than sit up in bed and suffer in silence. And when Steve had a coronary artery bypass the summer before he was due to start high school, Bucky barely left Steve’s bedside for the full eight weeks of his recovery.</p>
<p>The operation gave Steve a new lease on life; he was finally free from the chronic chest pains and breathlessness which had plagued him since childhood, and there was nothing stopping him from keeping up with Bucky anymore. After that, they were inseparable. They caused chaos, running amok as teenage boys are wont to do, riding their bikes around the city and climbing up fire escapes to find the best views of the night sky. They stole baked goods from Bucky’s grandma as often as they helped her bake them, and Steve was always welcome for dinner at the Barnes’ house when his ma was pulling double shifts again.</p>
<p>They shared their first kiss on the eve of Steve’s sixteenth birthday, just as the clock rolled over to midnight on the fourth of July; sitting out on the front steps of Bucky’s parents’ house, enjoying a peaceful night before the city erupted into fireworks and barbecues the following day. It was hesitant at first, as they both grappled with feelings they didn’t fully comprehend, emotions that felt larger than life. Even back then, Steve felt that Bucky was somehow an extension of his own soul and he knew he would go to the ends of the earth for Bucky if it came to it.</p>
<p>By the time Steve turned seventeen, the pair of them knew they were going to spend the rest of their lives together. They’d stop their bikes in the park and lie in the grass, with Steve’s head cradled in Bucky’s lap, and dream up plans together. After college, they were going to get a place of their own in Brooklyn with a nice airy kitchen that looked out over a yard – if they could afford it, or at least a nice view if not. They would bake cakes and pies of their own for Becca (and maybe, one day, even their own kids) to steal. Bucky was going to be a rocket scientist, a robotics engineer, a maths teacher, a history professor, a racecar driver – it changed daily. The only thing that stayed the same was that they’d be together, to the end of the earth.</p>
<p>* ✪･ ⍟ * ✪* ⍟ ･✪ *</p>
<p>The war started almost imperceptibly slowly, just more of the fighting on the fringes of Europe that had filled the news for decades. But then the troubles swept through Germany and France, the UK went into lockdown, and the rest of the world was forced to take notice. Still, it only felt like a faint threat on the news, worlds away from their life in Brooklyn, easy to ignore. Besides, Steve had bigger things to worry about. His ma got sick, cancer, they said. Untreatable. He dropped out of college to look after her full time, and when she was moved into long-term palliative care, Bucky moved in with Steve to make sure he was eating and sleeping and taking care of himself. It wasn’t fair, Steve raged at the universe. He’d been ill his whole life, <em>he</em> was the one who should be dying, not his ma, not when she’d wasted the last nineteen years of her life looking after him.</p>
<p>“Don’t talk like that, Steve,” Bucky pleaded with him. “It’s unfair. It fucking sucks. Your ma doesn’t deserve to die. But neither do you, Steve. D’ya hear me?” He grasped Steve’s face with both of his hands and pressed their foreheads together. “You mean the world to me and I won’t hear you talk of dying, Stevie. I won’t. You deserve to be here just as much as anybody else. I love you.”</p>
<p>The war moved closer. They began to notice soldiers in the streets, and roadblocks and sandbags were set up outside important buildings in readiness. Bucky’s engineering degree was cut short and he was recruited into weapons development. He didn’t have a choice, but at least his work was classed as ‘essential’ and prevented him from being drafted. Steve’s numerous medical conditions stopped him from being called up, too. If Steve hadn’t had to spend every waking moment with his ma, he might have tried to enlist, even though he was pretty sure they wouldn’t take him; Steve had never liked sitting by and feeling useless.</p>
<p>“Don’t even think about it, Stevie.” Sarah reached out to grip Steve’s hand tightly whenever she saw him staring longingly at the news. “Promise me you won’t do anything stupid?”</p>
<p>“I promise, ma,” Steve lied. His only comfort was that Bucky hadn’t been called up to fight, either.</p>
<p>Food shortages began, then rationing. Then suddenly the news was filled with scenes of fighting in DC. Propaganda messages appeared at every turn, replacing the usual TV adverts with ‘urgent messages’ from the government. America was launching a Super Soldier Program to push the enemy back. Steve scoffed at the news whilst Bucky looked awed. Either way, they both knew the war was coming to New York sooner or later; they knew they wouldn’t be able to avoid it forever.</p>
<p>People started to evacuate, seeking shelter in the Midwest where they hoped the fighting would be less severe, Bucky’s family included. Winnifred pleaded with Bucky and Steve to go with them, but Steve’s ma was too sick to move. He couldn’t leave her, and Bucky wouldn’t leave Steve.</p>
<p>“No!” Becca stomped her foot and wailed. She was only twelve, young enough to not fully understand what was happening, but old enough to see through her parent’s lies that they’d all be together again very soon. The sound of her tears broke Steve’s heart; he couldn’t bear the thought of what it was doing to Bucky.</p>
<p>“No! <em>Bucky!</em> No, you have to come with us, we’re not leaving you behind!” She wrapped herself around Bucky’s waist and held on tight.</p>
<p>“M’sorry, squirt.” He ran her plait through his fingers and stooped to hug her fiercely. “I have to stay, my job’s here.”</p>
<p>“Then I’m staying too,” she sobbed into Bucky’s shirt.</p>
<p>“You have to go with mom and dad, I can’t look after you here. I’m sorry, Becs.” His voice broke, and he hugged her close.</p>
<p>George and Winifred were already waiting in the car, anxious to leave before dawn broke and the roads filled up. They’d crammed all of their belongings into their car, as many as they could fit, at any rate, and boarded up the old family home which held so many memories. Steve watched the whole drawn-out goodbye, trying to hold back sobs. Bucky should have been going with them. Steve knew Bucky was staying for more than just his job, and as much as Steve couldn’t bear to lose Bucky, it felt selfish to be tethering him here to a city on the brink of war.</p>
<p>“I’ll see you soon.”</p>
<p>“Don’t <em>lie!</em>”</p>
<p>“I’m not lying.” Bucky brushed Becca’s hair off her forehead and stared into her eyes. “I’ll see you every time I close my eyes.” He pressed his eyes shut and smiled. “See? There you are.” He blinked his eyes open, still smiling. “You try?”</p>
<p>“I’m not six,” Becca protested.</p>
<p>“Just try.”</p>
<p>Becca huffed but closed her eyes.</p>
<p>“Love you to the moon and back, squirt.”</p>
<p>A smile tugged at the corner of her mouth, seemingly against her will. Bucky prodded at the dimple it made in her cheek.</p>
<p>“I love you too, Bucky.”</p>
<p>“Now <em>go</em>.”</p>
<p>Bucky managed not to cry until the car had disappeared around the block, but as soon as it did, he collapsed onto the steps leading to the boarded-up house. Steve sat with him and tried to comfort him as best he could. Bucky clung to Steve’s shirt and bawled big ugly tears that shook his shoulders. All Steve could do was hold him through it and assure him that he was loved, that he was doing the right thing. It didn’t feel like enough. They both knew it might easily have been the last time they ever saw Bucky’s family, but what else could Steve say?</p>
<p>Three months later, Sarah died. Steve had been expecting it, but that didn’t make her passing any easier. He burrowed himself in Bucky’s embrace and wept until he had no more tears to shed. By then, the city limits were locked tight and they couldn’t leave even if they’d wanted to. They hadn’t heard anything from Bucky’s family, and now communication would be impossible; they could only hope they’d made it to safety.</p>
<p>Air raids became a daily hazard. Soon the streets were filled with rubble, overturned cars, and shelled-out buildings. Steve and Bucky got used to being woken by the sounds of sirens and scrambling down to the basement, sheltering with the other families in their building. Bucky would take Mrs. Lupinski’s oldest – a four-year-old girl called Mila – on his knee and sing Winnifred’s lullabies to soothe her whilst Mrs. Lupinski tried to hush her infant twins. Steve didn’t have to ask to know that Bucky was remembering Becca as he brushed Mila’s hair and sang to her. Steve didn’t have to ask to know that Bucky missed her dearly. He didn’t want to think that if it hadn’t been for him, Bucky would have safely evacuated with his family, his job be damned; he wouldn’t have been cut off from them, forced to worry and wonder about them from afar.</p>
<p>Together, they’d all sit huddled underground, listening for the sounds of bombing, or waiting for the all-clear to come through on the radio that Mr. Barberou kept switched on in the corner of the basement. Sometimes, they weren’t so lucky. If a raid struck whilst they were out in the open – on their way to or from work, or volunteering, or risking trips for food and medical supplies – they were forced to shelter in crowded, disused subway stations along with all the other people who weren’t lucky enough to have a basement of their own. It was worse when they weren’t together, and Steve was forced to suffer through the raid with dread and wait with bated breath for hours to see if Bucky would come home at all.</p>
<p>One day, they weren't fast enough to find shelter. They’d been helping distribute an airdrop of food and medical supplies to shelters around the city when the raid struck and they were caught two blocks from the nearest subway station.</p>
<p>“Bucky, wait!” Steve screamed after Bucky as fire and destruction rained around them. “Don’t run too far ahead!” All the dust kicked up by the bombs was aggravating Steve’s lungs. He could barely keep up. It felt unfair to ask Bucky to wait for him, but he didn’t want to risk losing sight of Bucky. He couldn’t face not knowing where he was if anything happened to them.</p>
<p>“Hurry, Steve,” Bucky turned over his shoulder to yell back to him. “We can’t ----” he was cut off by a resounding <em>thaboom</em> as a shell detonated. The blast knocked Steve backward off his feet as the buildings caved in around them. Steve wheezed, ears ringing as he struggled to stand, fighting against dizzy disorientation as dust plumed around him. All of the air had been pushed from his lungs and it felt like his ribs were broken. He coughed and coughed and stumbled forwards, towards the pile of rubble that had cascaded from the building next to them and fallen into the street; right where Bucky had been standing.</p>
<p>“Bucky!” Steve tried to pinpoint where Bucky had been when the blast hit and fell to his knees to begin searching through the rubble, heart racing, fearing the worst. “Please no, please not you. No, no, no.” Steve was frantic, digging through the bricks and broken glass without a care for how it was tearing up his hands. Until, finally, a foot, a hand, and then he managed to unearth Bucky’s face. Hot breath brushed across the back of Steve’s hand and relief surged through him. It was faint, ragged, and weak, but breath was breath. He was alive. “<em>Bucky</em>,” Steve gasped as he fought to dig him free.</p>
<p>Steve pulled the broken bricks off Bucky’s chest and he coughed, finally able to fill his lungs again.</p>
<p>“My hero,” he wheezed up at Steve. His face was covered in dust, dirt, and blood. But he was alive. He was alive.</p>
<p>“Are you okay?” Steve ran his hands lightly across Bucky’s chest, arms, and legs feeling for any breaks or internal bleeding. He seemed to be okay, as far as Steve’s basic first response training could tell.</p>
<p>“I think I’m in one piece, my friend. Lucky hit,” Bucky drawled. “Did you get a chance to hit them back?”</p>
<p>Steve huffed a laugh that was more of a sob than anything else. If Bucky was teasing Steve with his terrible jokes, then he really was going to be okay.</p>
<p>“Don’t mock me,” Steve complained. He glanced up at the sky, watching the retreating forms of the bombers. “Those bastards. I wish they’d come down here and face me.”</p>
<p>Even half-dead and probably with a collapsed lung – Steve's imagination ran straight to the worst-case scenario – Bucky managed to laugh at Steve. He held out a hand for Steve to haul him to his feet.</p>
<p>“They were in A-formation, they’ll be back. We’d better get underground.” Bucky groaned in pain as he tried to take a step forward, and for a moment it looked like his legs might buckle. Steve dipped under Bucky’s arm to take his weight and wrapped a hand around his waist, gripping tight.</p>
<p>“You know, we can take the fight to them,” Bucky muttered, scanning the skies.</p>
<p>“Enlist?” Steve glanced sideways at Bucky, worried he’d been hit harder over the head than he’d thought. “We’re a couple of beanpoles, Buck! There’s no room for us during wartime.” Not that it had stopped Steve from trying, but the enlistment office had been clear, with all of his pre-existing conditions, Steve was a definite 4F.</p>
<p>“Wartime is the only time.” Bucky spat dirt and blood from his mouth, muttering the sentiment Steve felt deep in his bones. It was hard to remember what life had been like before the war, sometimes.</p>
<p>“I don’t want to get laughed off the battlefield,” Steve sighed. He slung Bucky’s arm further over his shoulder and picked up their pace towards the subway station, or tried to, but Bucky had suddenly become a dead weight at his side.</p>
<p>“There’s another option for guys like us.” Bucky nodded his head towards a scrap of poster still clinging to a shelled-out wall. ‘JOIN THE SUPER SOLDIER PROGRAM’ the poster declared over a picture of The Falcon, in his patriotic red, white and blue ‘Captain America’ uniform. “I know it’s risky, but don’t you want to fight, Steve?”</p>
<p>Steve tensed and ground his teeth. Of course, he did.</p>
<p>“Don’t you want to do your part?”</p>
<p>The words weren’t Bucky’s, Steve recognised them from all of the super-soldier propaganda reels that filled the TV channels before the broadcast companies had collapsed. Now they filled the airwaves of the radios, instead.</p>
<p>“You know I do,” he hissed. They’d had this fight a million times before, but normally, Bucky was the one telling him not to fight. “What’s gotten into you, Buck?”</p>
<p>Bucky laughed before it turned into a wheeze, and he held up his hand for Steve to stop and allow him to catch his breath. “The fight’s here, Steve. It’s gonna kill us one way or the other, anyway. I see that now.” Steve tightened his grip on Bucky’s hip. “Might as well try to take a few of the bastards down with us before we go.”</p>
<p>A low rumble signalled that the bombers were coming around for a second strike.</p>
<p>“We’ll discuss this later,” Steve muttered and dragged Bucky towards the subway station with a renewed haste. There wasn’t really anything to discuss, though Steve had been itching for a chance to ‘do his part’ since the start. Now that Bucky was on board, nothing was holding him back.</p>
<p>* ✪･ ⍟ * ✪* ⍟ ･✪ *</p>
<p>They reported to the Super Soldier enlistment office as soon as physically possible. The whole process was surprisingly easy. After blitzing through the aptitude tests, they were given a stack of waivers and paperwork that meant they effectively signed their lives away to the US Army, and then they were being prepped for the procedures.</p>
<p>Steve had thought that recovering from heart surgery had been painful, but it was nothing to the blast of vita radiation he was zapped with to enhance the serum and send it coursing through his veins. His whole body felt like it was on fire, and pain thrummed deep in his bones. Bones that cracked and reformed as he grew taller and broader and <em>stronger</em>. At least the process was over quickly, and when he emerged from the chamber, Steve felt like he finally had a body that fit him.</p>
<p>As he stared down at strong forearms and strange hands, Steve feared that Bucky wouldn’t recognise him, but he needn’t have worried. Bucky was on him the instant they were reunited, pulling Steve into a strong hug and holding tight for a few heartbeats before he stepped back to examine him properly. Bucky didn’t appear to have changed all that much, a little broader in the shoulders perhaps, certainly nothing to Steve’s dramatic transformation, but they’d been warned that the serum worked for everyone in slightly different ways.</p>
<p>“You look great,” Bucky told Steve later, when they were finally, blissfully, alone. “I always thought you did. But now you’ve got the <em>build</em> to match your bark.” He smirked at Steve, proud of his play on words, before putting the improved stamina of their super-soldier bodies to the test.</p>
<p>They got very few moments to themselves after that; they were too busy training with the other soldiers and fighting with everything they had to save their city from invasion. They fought well together, each able to anticipate the other’s moves and work in a seamless partnership. Bucky proved himself an expert marksman, and Steve’s brain seemed hardwired for military tactics; together they helped halt the enemy’s advance, but they couldn’t hold it back forever. No matter what new weapons the US army developed, the enemy seemed to be two, three steps ahead, unveiling even more terrifying weapons of war.</p>
<p>There had been rumours of an ancient mutant responsible for spurring the enemy on, and whose personal ambition was at the heart of their plans for world domination. Apocalypse, the rumours called him. All of the tales about him sounded like ghost stories used to frighten soldiers and young children alike: superhuman powers, unlimited firepower, the ability to manipulate his molecular make-up to turn his body into a weapon, or regenerate from should-be-fatal wounds. How the hell could you fight something like that? Steve would have scoffed at the stories if he could find any other explanations for the weapons or <em>things</em> they were fighting. Things he would never have believed could be real, if he didn’t have Bucky standing by his side, sharing his disbelief.</p>
<p>They should have died any number of times, but the serum’s advanced healing seemed to enable them to bounce back from anything the enemy could throw at them; well, nearly anything. A particularly nasty blast from a missile that Bucky had tried to manually throw off course left him with injuries to his left arm that didn’t seem to be able to heal on their own. Steve didn’t often panic on the battlefield, but he was distraught when Bucky was airlifted back to base. The army doctors weren’t fazed; they transferred him to the cybernetics department and a week later – a week Steve had spent fretting and repeatedly being denied access to see him – Bucky returned in good health, sporting a new metal prosthesis that extended from his shoulder joint right down to fully functioning and sensitive fingertips.</p>
<p>“How fucking cool is this?!” he asked Steve, wriggling his shiny new silver fingers in Steve’s face. “An upgrade and a half, and it’s bulletproof too.” He grinned, then laughed at Steve’s palpable look of relief. “I told you I’d be fine.” He glanced around to check that they were alone and snuck a quick kiss to the corner of Steve’s mouth. Later that night, they stole away to a quiet corner of the barracks and Steve let Bucky’s new fingers learn every dip and groove of his body.</p>
<p>*✪･ﾟ⍟* ✪*⍟ﾟ･✪*</p>
<p>Unfortunately, some things were beyond even the help of the cybernetics lab. When The Falcon was shot down over the Potomac, there was nothing anyone could do to save him. It was a dark day during the war. One of the last threads of hope was cut, and it was difficult to see how they could win anymore; now they were just fighting to survive.</p>
<p>Steve was offered the shield, to take up the mantle of Captain America, and he accepted with a small degree of reluctance. He might have been a skilled tactician, but he knew he was still too reckless and too headstrong in the heat of battle to be a real leader. He tried to argue that Bucky deserved it more, Bucky had always been the better soldier, and there was no one braver or more deserving than he, but it wasn’t Steve’s call to make. And he soon found out that the Army was ordering rather than offering for him to take it.</p>
<p>They held the enemy back for a few months longer, fighting better than ever with the shield and the arm, but they knew they were fighting a losing battle. When Apocalypse himself deigned to walk the streets of Brooklyn, they both knew it was over. They also knew they couldn’t go down without one last fight.</p>
<p>“Come in, Command!” Steve shouted into his radio for back-up. “This is super soldiers Rogers and Barnes. Come in, Falcon Units! Come in, Iron Patriot Squad!”</p>
<p>“Steve, quiet, he’ll hear us.” Bucky hissed as they hunkered behind the remnants of an armoured vehicle which had been dashed to smithereens by Apocalypse, who’d taken on a towering, armoured form with a terrifying skull for a face and flamethrowers for arms. “Command is gone. Backup is gone. It’s just us now, Steve.”</p>
<p>“Us against him? Be smart, Buck.”</p>
<p>Apocalypse fired up with a <em>fwaarsh</em> and sent a jet of powerful flame blasting over the war-torn street. Steve thought that there might once have been a deli on this block that he’d visited often as a kid, not that there was any trace of its existence left, now. Everything recognisable about Brooklyn, about his beloved home, had long ago been burned to the ground. He was actually glad his mother hadn’t lived to see it.</p>
<p>“There’s nothing to be smart about, Steve. If he makes it to the bridge, the whole city falls.”</p>
<p>Steve glanced behind them at the smoking wreck of the Brooklyn Bridge, which was somehow still standing amongst all of this. Manhattan hadn’t fared much better than Brooklyn from the aerial attacks, but so far, it had been spared fighting in the streets. It burned bright as the last beacon of hope for the free states of America. If it fell, the rest of the country would soon follow.</p>
<p>Steve looked back at Apocalypse, then across to Bucky. There was no way they were going to survive going up against that thing, even two on one.</p>
<p>“I’ll stop him, you get back to base,” Steve tried. He wasn’t ready to lose Bucky, not now, not ever.</p>
<p>“It’s all or nothing, Steve.” Bucky shook his head and met Steve’s gaze with a steely look of his own. He wasn’t ready to lose Steve, either.</p>
<p>Together then. The way it had always been.</p>
<p>“You remember that time in my Gramma Hubbard’s kitchen?” Bucky suddenly asked, seemingly apropos of nothing.</p>
<p>“The pie…?”</p>
<p>“If it wasn’t for both of us, we would have been caught.” He turned to grin at Apocalypse’s towering form with a renewed looked of determination and an undeniable sneaky glint in his eye. “Instead, we got pie.”</p>
<p>Steve followed Bucky’s gaze and remembered the incident, suddenly realising where Bucky was going with that train of thought.</p>
<p>“Fine. We do it like your grandmother’s kitchen. I’ll go right up the middle, you flank to the left.”</p>
<p>“Fair’s fair. You got the shield, I got the arm. Ready?”</p>
<p>Steve was ready to die. He had been ready for half of his life, but he was never, ever, going to be ready to lose Bucky.</p>
<p>“Wait, Buck.” He caught Bucky’s arm before he could run off into the line of fire, and took one last look into Bucky’s eyes, memorising his face, drinking his fill. “I’ll always have your back, no matter what.” It had become their code, with comms usually listening in to their every word, it was how Steve told Bucky he loved him. He hoped he understood that now.</p>
<p>“I know, Steve. Me too.”</p>
<p>Bucky gave Steve one last achingly loving smile and then pulled himself out of Steve’s grip to flank around to the left.</p>
<p>“HEY!” Steve leapt out from behind his cover and dashed headfirst towards Apocalypse. “Over here, punk!”</p>
<p>He heard the monster power up with that tell-tale <em>fwaarsh</em> and brought the shield up to protect his face as he leapt into battle.</p>
<p>Steve had no doubts that he would have been killed, and his only hope was that he might have taken the <em>thing</em> down with him. But he never got the chance to find out. Before he’d even managed to get a good few hits in, a circle of bright orange light cut through the air and Steve felt himself being ripped backward away from the beast.</p>
<p>“STEVE!”</p>
<p>He had just enough awareness to recognise Bucky’s voice and make out Bucky’s shape flying through the air towards him until they both crashed into a solid surface. The circle of light closed with a crackle and they found themselves in the dark.</p>
<p>“Up.” A stern voice sounded behind them.</p>
<p>Steve swung and sent the shield flying in the direction of the voice. It made contact, but Steve was tackled from behind by someone else in an armoured suit and felt a stun baton connect with his ribs, sending a paralysing jolt of electricity through him. Steve fell to his knees, intending to surge back up with a surprise counter-attack once his limbs stopped vibrating from the shock of the stun baton when he was zapped in the neck by something that stung like a sharp mosquito bite. He flinched and brought a hand up to swat at whatever had landed there, feeling a round metallic disk. He tried to pull it free but found that it had been embedded into his skin.</p>
<p>Giving a growl of displeasure Steve swiped at his attackers with a renewed ferocity. He’d barely taken a step when the disk began to emit an awful surge of voltage that seeped through his nervous system and filled him with agony, unlike anything he’d ever felt before. He convulsed and fell to the floor, unable to do anything other than writhe in pain.</p>
<p>“Steve, no!” Bucky screamed before his cry was cut short and Steve heard – even if he couldn’t see – the same thing happening to him.</p>
<p>“Ah yes. You two will do nicely.” A new, commanding voice called out. “Send them down to processing.”</p>
<p>Another jolt of electric current passed through Steve’s body until he was ready to pass out from the pain. He had no idea where they were or what awaited them in ‘processing,’ but he knew it was nothing good.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0006"><h2>6. II . I . ii</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <strong>II.I.ii</strong>
</p>
<p>Steve woke on a cold, solid surface with an ache in his bones that reminded him of a particularly bad bout of flu. Only, he wasn’t meant to be able to get the flu anymore. Groaning, he rolled onto his side and managed to sit up with great difficulty. Something clanked and rattled as he moved, and when he looked down, he realised that he was shackled to the floor with long loops of chains staked to a ring in the centre of the cell. He’d also been stripped and dressed in a coarse cloth tunic, and the shield had been taken. Steve glanced around, trying not to panic. The cell was made of bare stone and the doorway was barred with thick metal rods. The back wall seemed to curve, ever so slightly, like maybe the building they were in was circular, and the air was heavy with something metallic, like the taste of blood in his mouth. Steve noted all of that in an instant, but then his eyes landed on Bucky lying slumped in the corner, similarly chained, and suddenly, nothing else mattered.</p>
<p>“Bucky, Buck, hey.” Steve shook Bucky gently by the shoulder.</p>
<p>“Five mo’minutes,” Bucky slurred with a sleepy drawl. Despite everything, Steve couldn’t help but smile. Bucky had never been a morning person, even at the end of the world.</p>
<p>“Hey, c’mon, wake up. We need our wits about us.”</p>
<p>Bucky huffed and grumbled, and rolled onto his back to blink his eyes open at Steve. “Says you. You’ve been conked out for hours.”</p>
<p>“What?” Steve sat back on his heels, confused.</p>
<p>“You slept through the whole thing,” Bucky informed him. “Don’t blame you, they zapped you longer than they should have. Doom was pissed about it. Well, <em>Strange </em>was pissed. Doom doesn’t seem to say much.”</p>
<p>“Who? What?” Steve didn’t follow.</p>
<p>Bucky shuffled into a sitting position and dragged a hand across his face before explaining in a very dry and bitter tone.</p>
<p>“We’ve been chosen,” he said, the words clearly parroted from someone else. “To serve God Doom in the Killiseum. We’re being given a chance to prove our worth, to fight for the glory of Doom as gladiators,” Bucky scoffed. “The <em>chance </em>to choose between fighting for their entertainment or being killed for it.”</p>
<p>“I don’t understand.” Steve shook his head. “Apocalypse, the war...” His brain was a foggy mush, scrambled by whatever he’d been zapped with. But there was something very important screaming at him in the back of his mind, something they were meant to be doing. “The bridge. Buck, if we don’t save the bridge, the city will fall.”</p>
<p>Bucky gave him a sorry look and shook his head. “It’s gone, Steve. All gone. We’re not in Kansas anymore. Or, ya know, Brooklyn. Heck, I don’t think we’re even in the same universe anymore.”</p>
<p>Steve glanced around the bare walls of the cell as his memories slowly filtered back to him: the portal, falling through, being sent for processing…his face must have betrayed how crushed he felt because Bucky shuffled close and wrapped in him a hug, as much as their chains and manacles would allow.</p>
<p>“Hey, at least we’re together,” he said softly, gripping Steve tightly. “I’ll always have your back. No matter what.”</p>
<p>“No matter what.” Steve agreed. His heart ached for their lost home, and he dreaded to think of the destruction Apocalypse would bring with no one to stand in their way. He stared at Bucky, his hopeful smile and his relentless optimism, then hugged him close again, clinging tight. As long as he had Bucky by his side, Steve was sure they’d weather whatever this new world could throw at them. </p>
<p>“To the ends of the earth, whatever earth we might be on,” Bucky added, and Steve could feel him smiling against his shoulder.</p>
<p>*✪･ﾟ⍟* ✪*⍟ﾟ･✪*</p>
<p>If nothing else, being in the army had taught them how to adapt to a new routine. Steve quickly got used to being woken at dawn for an ice-cold shower with the other gladiators and being marched in chains to break their fast in a vast, grimy food hall. Talking was not tolerated in the food hall, on pain of being zapped by the little metal discs on their necks, which packed quite a punch despite their size. Breakfast was followed by hours of training overseen by menacing guards and drones, with strict discipline enforced by shocks if you looked like you were even thinking about stepping out of line. Steve and Bucky fell into their usual sparring routines and took the opportunity to scope out their opponents before they would be forced to fight to the death against them. Some people they recognised as humans, clearly pulled from worlds similar to their own, but most were foreign, alien beings, captured on worlds from galaxies that Steve and Bucky had never even dreamed of before.</p>
<p>There were creatures, too, like in the Roman gladiatorial matches of old. But instead of lions or tigers or bears, Steve and Bucky found themselves facing down an honest-to-god T-Rex, eighteen-feet tall with vivid red skin the colour of blood-soaked through a shirt. It roared at them with the force of a hurricane, sending a wall of foul breath and saliva whipping around them.</p>
<p>“Lord have mercy,” Steve muttered under his breath. He gripped his axe tightly and hefted his shield (which was returned only when they were about to enter the arena; in the training pits, they were only ever given wooden replicas), relieved to have its solid weight strapped to his arm. He stared up at the towering beast and began to plot how they might stand a chance against it.</p>
<p>“Poor thing, it’s in pain,” Bucky cooed beside him.</p>
<p>Steve didn’t dare take his eyes off the T-Rex for fear it would attack at any minute, but if he could have, he would have shot Bucky an exasperated look.</p>
<p>“This isn’t one of your strays, Bucky,” he hissed back.</p>
<p>“Look at him!” Bucky protested. “Those chains are eating into his legs. I’d be angry too if it were me.”</p>
<p>Steve spared a look at the beast’s legs and saw that it was, in fact, chained to the floor of the trap door it had risen through, and the metal bands clamped tight around its legs were biting painfully into its flesh. Steve hadn’t noticed to start with, too preoccupied with the giant, gaping mouth and rows of razor-sharp teeth. The audience in the stands didn’t seem to notice that the beast was chained down, either. Steve guessed they weren’t supposed to. The chains were probably meant to even up the fight a little; give Steve and Bucky a chance at not being eaten immediately.</p>
<p>“I’m going to cut him free,” Bucky announced, hefting his sword in his hand and running to slide beneath the T-Rex’s flank and start hacking at the manacles on his legs.</p>
<p>“BUCKY?!” Steve screamed at him. He didn’t follow Bucky, darting around in front of the dinosaur’s face, instead, in a desperate attempt to distract it from whatever Bucky intended to do. “Over here, you big red devil!” Steve called out to the monster. He turned and twirled, a blur of red, white and blue, clanging his axe against his shield to make a loud racket. Strange or Doom or whoever had organised this god-awful sport seemed to know exactly who Steve and Bucky had been in their former lives and had taken delight in dressing Steve in a red, white, and blue gladiatorial parody of his former uniform. He thought it was best not to argue. At least his armour afforded him some protection; unlike the scant straps of a harness that held pauldrons to Bucky’s shoulders left the rest of his chest and back exposed. Thankfully, they’d left him with his arm, which Steve supposed acted as a form of armour, and a weapon the way Bucky used it to fight – or to rip clean through the manacles bound round the T-Rex’s feet.</p>
<p>The creature gave another terrifying roar which threatened to bowl Steve clean off his feet, and then it staggered forwards for a few steps, clearly confused.</p>
<p>“Bucky, get away from it!” Steve tried to hiss, but of course, Bucky ignored him. Steve watched, heart hammering dangerously fast as Bucky ran a hand along the back of the beast’s leg in what was probably meant to be a soothing motion.</p>
<p>The T-Rex sniffed the air and growled low in the back of its throat. It finally noticed Bucky and curled its head around to sniff at him with long, slow scents of the air.</p>
<p>Steve’s heart was in his mouth. He hardly dared to move as the T-Rex stared Bucky down, certain that at any moment it would open up that terrifying mouth and eat him whole. Bucky didn’t let himself be fazed.</p>
<p>“There, you’re okay,” Steve heard Bucky say. “We’re not going to hurt you.” He continued to stroke the beast’s leg and, when the T-Rex showed no signs of aggression towards him, Bucky began to move forwards with his hands held out in the same unthreatening way he’d approached alley cats and stray dogs back home. “You’re a good boy, aren’t you?”</p>
<p>Steve was too stunned to do anything but watch as Bucky reached out towards one giant nostril of the – literal, actual, terrifying – dinosaur and gently stroked the beast’s nose. The T-Rex gave a shuddering <em>sneeek </em>sound and nuzzled closer to Bucky’s hand.</p>
<p>“See! It was just scared, weren’t you, buddy?” Bucky grinned, absolutely delighted with himself. “There’s a good boy.”</p>
<p>Bucky might have been delighted, and Steve was utterly relieved that his beloved hadn’t been eaten by a dinosaur, but the crowd – and the producers – were furious. They’d come here to see blood spilled, not to see the dinosaur tamed. Thundering boos of displeasure began to rumble around the stands. Steve glanced up and around the arena, picking out his own concerned face on the monitors that were meant to be displaying highlights of the carnage.</p>
<p>He crept slowly over towards Bucky and the dinosaur, keeping his axe pointed down but still gripped tightly in his hand.</p>
<p>“Buck,” he warned. “They want to see a fight.”</p>
<p>“We’re not fighting him, Steve.” Bucky was now scratching the T-Rex under its jaw and cooing to it softly, steadfastly ignoring the boos from the crowd.</p>
<p>“Not what I meant,” Steve returned. He feared the producers were going to send in something even more terrible for them to fight, ensuring the audience got their money’s worth. His fears were proved right when the gates around the arena opened and dozens of feral, mutated reptiles swarmed through. “Fuck, here we go.”</p>
<p>Steve twirled his axe and dropped into a fighting stance, ready to try and throw them off. He’d seen them in action against other unsuspecting contestants; they swarmed together, pack-like and completely without regard for their own safety. Steve chopped through one and swiped another away with his shield. He sensed Bucky fighting beside him, swords and metal fist flying lethally through the air. Then, suddenly, the ground gave a terrifying shake as the T-Rex stomped over to them and began to fight the beings off, too. He swung his tail around and sent a handful flying into the arena wall and used his teeth to tear another half a dozen to shreds.</p>
<p>The crowd began to roar and stomp their feet. They didn’t care who fought who, so long as they saw blood, and there was definitely blood splattered all over the sandy floor of the arena. With the T-Rex on their side, the fight was over quickly, and the three of them were left gasping for breath and flushed with excess adrenaline.</p>
<p>“All glory to Doom!” the disembodied voice of the emcee chanted through the arena speakers. “Give it up for your new champions: the Captain, the Winter Soldier, and the Devil!”</p>
<p>Steve and Bucky took their bows as they had been trained to do and winced as the crowd cheered for the bloody chaos they were standing in.</p>
<p>“You’ve got red on you,” Bucky smirked at Steve.</p>
<p>Steve scowled in return and wiped angrily at the blood he could feel splattered across his face. Before they had a chance to catch their breath, the trap door opened again and the Devil’s handlers appeared with tasers and spears. The T-Rex reared back with an almighty growl.</p>
<p>“No! No!” Bucky ran to put himself in between the handlers and the dinosaur. “Don’t hurt him!”</p>
<p>“Well, well, that was quite a show.” The crowd of handlers parted to let someone in a resplendent white cape through, flanked by his personal guards. He had long red hair braided back, almost like an elven prince. Steve had never laid eyes on him before.</p>
<p>“Who are you?” he demanded.</p>
<p>“My name is Arcade, I run this show.” The man twisted his mouth into a smile. “I’ve heard quite a lot about you two.” He spoke in a jovial manner, but there was something very sinister lurking beneath his overly-pleasant façade. “You’re both very promising fighters. You could have a bright future here if you play by the rules. But,” he warned them, “if you ever try to make me look foolish, or refuse to fight again,” he snarled, “you’ll find that life here can be even more terrible than you ever imagined. Do I make myself clear?”</p>
<p>Steve grunted his assent, assuming that this ‘Arcade’ required an answer.</p>
<p>“I won’t fight innocent animals.” Bucky protested.</p>
<p>“Oh ho. Innocent?” Arcade remarked. “This one’s not so innocent.”</p>
<p>“Because you’re hurting him!”</p>
<p>Steve flashed a look at Bucky, but he couldn’t tell him to back down. Not when he was right. Steve shifted his axe into a more comfortable grip. If this was the hill that Bucky chose for them to die on, then so be it. Steve would always have his back, no matter what.</p>
<p>“Well, I won’t pretend it wasn’t fun watching the three of you fight together, you make quite the formidable team. Very well, if you disapprove of our methods, the beast is yours. I expect you to train and be responsible for him. If he kills you,” Arcade gave a laugh straight from a pantomime villain, “then it’s hardly a loss to me.” Arcade swept back down the ramp, and his guards disappeared with him.</p>
<p>Steve finally turned to Bucky and raised one very exasperated eyebrow. “How in the hell are we going to train and look after a T-Rex?” he demanded.</p>
<p>Bucky did at least have the decency to look shocked by the sudden turn of events, but he just shrugged. “We’ll figure it out.”</p>
<p>*✪･ﾟ⍟* ✪*⍟ﾟ･✪*</p>
<p>In the end, the T-Rex turned out to be not quite as dissimilar from the stray dogs that Bucky was used to befriending as Steve had originally thought. Devil, as they started calling him, was an exceptionally clever animal, and loyal, too. At first, his loyalty only extended to Bucky, but with time, Steve was able to earn Devil’s trust, too. The three of them were rehoused to the ‘stables’ section of the cells that lay beneath the Killiseum and got used to bedding down on the lumpy straw, curling up beside the dinosaur for warmth. The new arrangement severely cut down on their interaction with the other gladiators, but Steve was glad of it. It made it just that little bit more bearable not being forced to kill people you’d eaten breakfast with the week before.</p>
<p>Time passed, they lost track of how long, and they began to piece together fragmented information about where they were and how the place functioned. Doom seemed to be in charge, an Emperor or a God (depending on who you asked) who presided over everything with an iron fist. Doctor Strange, a wizard with unknown capabilities, served as his Sheriff, plucking people from across the universe – or multiple, parallel universes, as Bucky conjectured – to provide entertainment in the blood sports organised by Arcade to “bring glory to Doom.” The Killiseum was located on the outskirts of Doomstadt, the capital city inhabited by the survivors of some sort of gamma bomb which had rendered the rest of the world uninhabitable. Doom, strangely enough, did seem to care about the well-being of his population, and the blood sport games seemed to be his way of controlling their lust for violence whilst maintaining a façade of civilisation.</p>
<p>It was hard to know what lay beyond the city limits, but there were hushed whispers of the Badlands, Fang Mountains, barrens ruled by Tribal Hulks. Apparently, the gamma bomb had infected everything with gamma radiation, which had turned more than half the population into ‘Hulks’ and plunged the planet into chaos. Although no one could quite agree what awaited you outside the Killiseum, even if it were possible to escape, the chances of survival were slim to none.</p>
<p>It didn’t stop Steve from trying to find a way out. He refused to accept that fighting “for the glory of Doom” was all that was left of his life. He hadn’t been made for this, he hadn’t suffered through so much <em>shit</em>, survived so many lucky escapes for this to be all there was. But even if they made it out, Steve didn’t know where they could go; it wasn’t like there was even a home to return to anymore. Steve had no way of knowing for sure what had happened after they’d been pulled through the portal, but without them holding the line, there would have been nothing to stop New York from falling. He rattled the bars of their cell in frustration and then let his head fall uselessly against the unmoving bars. They seemed to be made of vibranium; clearly, the rarest metal on earth wasn’t quite so rare on this earth.</p>
<p>“Steve…?” Bucky stirred at the sound, whilst Devil gave a <em>snxxx </em>and carried on snoring.</p>
<p>“Home is…gone,” Steve seethed. “Part of Apocalypse’s kingdom, now. Is this senseless battle all there is for us?” He slapped his hand against the bars before stepping back and scowling at them.</p>
<p>“I don’t believe that, and neither do you.” Bucky pushed himself to his feet and stumbled sleepily over to where Steve was brooding. “It’s a big world.” He sagged against the bars and peered through the gloom down the empty corridor and to the monstrous silhouettes visible in the other cells opposite them. “There must be a place for us…free of battle, death, and <em>Doom</em>.”</p>
<p>How Bucky could always remain so hopeful and optimistic even in the face of everything that was being thrown at them, Steve would never know.</p>
<p>“We’re gonna make it, Steve.” Bucky clapped a hand on Steve’s shoulder and ducked his head to find Steve’s eyes, drawing Steve’s gaze. He grinned and Steve couldn’t help but smile back. “We just gotta keep fighting. They don’t put a star on your chest if you’re a quitter.” He jabbed at the star still buckled to Steve’s chest, the one he’d be given when they promoted him to Captain America. Steve never felt like he’d deserved the title, but Bucky always had. Bucky had always told him how proud he was of Steve. “Come back to bed.” He took Steve’s hand and led him back to the slightly thicker clump of straw that constituted their bed. Steve let himself be dragged back down to the floor, pillowing his head against Devil as Bucky wrapped himself close against Steve’s chest.</p>
<p>“They have a word here,” Bucky whispered into the dark. “Warbound.”</p>
<p><em>Warbound</em>. Steve rolled it over in his mind and tightened his grip around Bucky’s waist. “What’s it mean?”</p>
<p>“Bound by war, like brothers-in-arms, but more. We’ve been through hell and back together. I think we qualify,” Bucky murmured against Steve’s chest.</p>
<p>“We were bound together long before the war.” Steve countered. </p>
<p>“Hmmm. That we were.” </p>
<p>Steve ran his fingers through Bucky’s hair and tried to imagine that they were elsewhere, resting softly in each other’s arms somewhere peaceful. Somewhere safe.</p>
<p>“We had so many plans, d’you remember? I know it’s hard to think of them now, but…I would’ve married you, you know?” Bucky whispered.</p>
<p>“I know.” Steve had always known.</p>
<p>“To hell with what the army said, I was gonna propose on your next birthday.” </p>
<p>Steve glanced down and met Bucky’s eyes in the gloom. He was smiling brightly despite their predicament, and Steve’s heart swelled. </p>
<p>“We could have said our vows in secret,” Bucky continued. </p>
<p>Steve tried to picture it, but all he could conjure was the smoking shell of his ma’s old church that had been bombed to hell. He and Bucky had picked through the rubble to find survivors. He pushed those thoughts from his mind and focused on Bucky’s face instead, trailing his hand down Bucky’s jaw and pressing his thumb into the dimple on Bucky’s chin. </p>
<p>“Let’s say them now.” He sat up and pulled Bucky upright with him. </p>
<p>“Now?” Bucky asked, but he was smiling.</p>
<p>“No time like the end of the world.” Steve grinned back. He reached for Bucky’s hands and took them both in his own, gripping tight. “Bucky Barnes, I think I’ve loved you since the day we met, though it took me a few years to understand what I was feeling. You’ve always been the brightest thing in my life. You make me brave, you give me hope, and your courage gives me the strength to carry on when my own courage fails me. I vow to love you in this life and whatever comes after. I vow to protect you, even though you don’t need my help to look out for yourself. I vow to always have your back, no matter what. To the ends of the earth,” Steve swore sincerely, and he gave Bucky’s hands a squeeze and leant in to kiss him in lieu of exchanging rings. </p>
<p>“Steve Rogers,” Bucky breathed when Steve broke the kiss. He squeezed Steve’s hands and looked up at him with a warm smile. “I have loved you since <em>before </em>the day we met.” He smirked, always going one better than Steve. “When I saw you standing up to Mickey Briggs in the cafeteria on my first day of school, I knew you were the one for me. Just took a broken wrist and some hospital-grade painkillers to give me the confidence to talk to you.” Steve noticed there were tears in Bucky’s eyes, which made him well up slightly, too. “I’ve always been amazed at your strength of character, at that moral compass burning brightly in your soul. You make me a better person just for knowing you, and for that, I am forever grateful. I vow to love you in this life and whatever comes after. I vow to protect you, which you quite often need me to do.” He gave a faint laugh and sniffed back happy tears. “I vow to always have your back, no matter what. To the ends of the earth. To the ends of the fucking universe.” Bucky squeezed Steve’s hands and then launched himself up to kiss Steve fiercely and passionately, and for just a moment, wrapped tightly in Bucky’s warmth, everything else fell away. Steve focused on the warmth and happiness that bloomed in his chest. Love was one helluva drug.</p>
<p>It was Bucky’s bright optimism and his relentless hope that kept Steve going as the days wore on and their time in Doom’s Killiseum threatened to eke into eternity. Alone, Steve would never have borne the senseless battles, killing people and creatures that didn’t deserve to die. But it was kill-or-be-killed, and although Steve would rather have thrown down his shield and let himself die, he wouldn’t abandon Bucky to this fate alone. He had to keep going, for Bucky’s sake, if nothing else.</p>
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<em>I cannot think of you here surrounded by gamma and blood.<br/>
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Bright summer days, free of war.<br/>
I pray you are unhurt.<br/>
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<p>It was easy for Steve to assume that he’d already hit rock bottom. Forced into war, then ripped from that war into hell, but Steve had been gravely mistaken if he had thought that things couldn’t get any worse. He awoke one morning with the usual musty scent of Devil filling his nose. He stretched and yawned, reaching for Bucky, hoping they might snag a few more minutes of quiet peace before they were forced to report to the training ring, but he rolled over and found the spot next to him empty.</p>
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<p>“Buck?” Steve sat up and rubbed the sleep from his eyes, yawning into the back of his hand. “Bucky?” Their cell wasn’t very big, and apart from a couple of columns that held up the roof, it was empty; it wasn’t difficult to tell that Bucky wasn’t there. Which was impossible. There was nowhere else he could be. “Bucky?” Steve called again, louder this time and starting to panic. He hadn’t heard anything in the night, where the hell could he have gone?</p>
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<p>Steve tried to keep a lid on the anxiety that threatened to well up in his gut. Maybe Bucky had been called down to training early. Maybe he was polishing his weapons, maybe he was receiving maintenance on his arm. Steve tried to rationalise that there was any number of reasons for Bucky’s unexplained absence, but as the day wore on and there was no sign of him, Steve couldn’t control his panic anymore. Especially when no one who would talk to him had seen hide or hair of Bucky, either.</p>
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<p>“Like they’d tell us anything.” One guard finally took pity on Steve as he hauled Steve back into his cell for the night. “You wanna know where he’s gone? Ask Arcade.”</p>
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<p>“How in the hell am I supposed to ask Arcade?” Steve spat. After that first meeting during the Devil incident, Steve had never set eyes on the man again.</p>
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<p>“He’ll be presenting the next tournament award.” The guard pushed Steve into the cell and locked the door up tight. “Egotistical fool. It doubles our workload when he wants to walk out onto the field.”</p>
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<p>Steve suspected that that last piece of information wasn’t meant for his ears, but it kickstarted a plan, anyway. If Arcade was planning to greet the tournament victor on the field, Steve could press that to his advantage. Not only could he get an audience with Arcade, but if he managed to take him hostage he might be able to make a trade with whoever had taken Bucky. All he had to do was survive however many rounds of fighting there would be until then.</p>
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<p>Steve’s focus narrowed down to finding out where Bucky had gone and working to get him back. He couldn’t concentrate on anything else. He could barely sleep, he couldn’t eat. Worry gnawed at Steve’s gut, and Bucky’s absence ached like a bad tooth or an injured joint. It was impossible to quiet his mind, and Steve looped back through their last conversations looking for any clues of what might have happened to him.</p>
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<p>Their last words had been the most mundane, Bucky quoting that ridiculous cartoon that Becca had loved so much: <em>“Good night, sleep tight, dream of bed bugs tonight.”</em> He’d planted a sloppy kiss in the vague vicinity of Steve’s mouth and then had rolled away to burrow close into Devil’s hide. Steve hadn’t told Bucky that he loved him, not that night. They’d grown sloppy with their ritual now that bombs weren’t actively falling on their heads; they’d stopped saying it to each other each night before they fell asleep, secure in the knowledge that although the dawn might bring new horrors, they’d wake to face them together. Or, at least, Steve had thought they would.</p>
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<p>He still didn’t know how he’d slept through Bucky leaving. How had he missed that? Had Bucky been dragged away kicking and screaming whilst Steve slumbered uselessly? Had he chosen to go? Had he tried to wake Steve and bid him farewell? Had he been snatched in his sleep? Not knowing was impossible to bear as it let Steve’s imagination run through many terrible scenarios, each worse than the last.</p>
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<p>“I’m sorry, Buck.” Steve whimpered into the cell that felt so empty without Bucky’s bright presence. Devil gave a low grumble of displeasure. He’d always preferred Bucky’s company to Steve’s, and he was a clever animal; he knew something was wrong. The longer Bucky stayed away, the more anxious he became as well.</p>
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<p>“I know, Devil.” Steve tried to soothe the dinosaur by tickling under his chin and scratching his nose like Bucky always did. “We’ll get him back. We have to.” Steve wouldn’t entertain the idea that Bucky was hurt. He couldn’t stand the thought that he might already be too late.</p>
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<p>*✪･ﾟ⍟* ✪*⍟ﾟ･✪*</p>
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<p>Steve fought through twelve rounds of bloody combat to earn his audience with Arcade. Twelve rounds of slaughtering people and creatures that didn’t deserve to die in such a senseless manner; didn’t deserve for their deaths to become a spectacle. The crowd gave an almighty and bloodthirsty cheer as Steve stood panting amongst the carnage. Devil returned them a roar, and Steve found himself roaring right back, his anger and fury venting from him in a furious scream.</p>
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<p>“The Wolverine clan has been defeated!” the announcer's voice echoed around the arena. “May he who dies, die well!”</p>
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<p>The words washed over Steve as he glanced around at the bodies littering the field, hardly able to believe that they’d died at his hands. It was a lie as old as time: no one ever died <em>well</em>.</p>
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<p>“Hail your new champions…the Captain and the Devil!” The cheers from the crowd kicked up a notch and confetti exploded from cannons around the stadium. “All glory to Doom!”</p>
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<p>Steve raised his hands in triumph, saving himself the shock from the disc on his neck if he didn’t, and waited. Armed guards began to crowd the entrance to the arena field, flanking the space where Arcade would walk. Two of them disarmed Steve, stealing back his shield and axe as they did at the end of every match, but Steve had a different trick up his sleeve this time.</p>
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<p>“What a momentous tournament! A true blood sport classic!” Arcade sounded as jovial as ever. It set Steve on edge; what he wouldn’t give to punch that pompous smirk off the guy’s face. Devil sensed Steve’s anger and gave a low growl.</p>
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<p><em>Not yet, Devil.</em> Steve wanted to say to him, trying to exude a sense of calm that the dinosaur could pick up on. <em>Relax. Match my breathing. We’ve come too far.</em></p>
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<p>“Twelve rounds, Captain. A lot of blood under those nails. Hope it was worth it,” Arcade jeered.</p>
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<p><em>Now!</em> Steve screamed with his mind. He lurched forwards to grab Arcade by the lapels of his pristine white cape. “It was!”</p>
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<p>Devil roared and opened his mouth to swallow them both inside, trapping them in the cave of Devil’s monstrous mouth. Steve struck a match against his armour to cast a bright glow that glinted off Devil’s teeth and grinned at Arcade, who looked terrified out of his mind.</p>
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<p>“Guards! Guaaards!” Arcade screeched.</p>
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<p>“You’re beyond your guards now, clown,” Steve spat at him. “Tell me, or I’ll knock you down Devil’s throat myself, WHERE’S BUCKY?” he bellowed.</p>
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<p>“TELL ME NOW!” Steve shouted. The match was burning right down to his fingers, but Steve didn’t notice the pain; his mind was focused solely on getting an answer out of Arcade, who trembled under Steve’s terrible gaze.</p>
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<p>“Get away from me! Get away…” Arcade quaked, then fumbled with something in his hands. It was a testament to the state of Steve’s mind and how distracted he was by his concern for Bucky that he didn’t notice the detonator until it was too late. Arcade pressed at it erratically until he found the trigger and lightning burst from the disc in Steve’s neck.</p>
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<p>Steve had one last chance to curse himself and his own stupidity before he passed out from the pain. He’d been so close.</p>
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<p>*✪･ﾟ⍟* ✪*⍟ﾟ･✪*</p>
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<p>“That was not wise, Captain,” Doctor Strange commented, and Steve could <em>hear</em> his smirk. “Arcade was better prepared than you anticipated.” He sneered down at Steve. “Acknowledge your God. Doom.”</p>
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<p>Steve tugged on the chains that shackled him to the floor, but as always, they didn’t budge. They were made of vibranium, and resistant even to super soldiers. Steve settled onto his knees and glowered up at Strange instead. Doom loomed behind him with his face sealed behind an impassive mask that managed to look menacing even though its expression was blank. He’d seated himself on a throne woven from the trunk of an impossibly large, probably ‘hulked out’ tree; the gamma that infected this earth seemed to have made nature itself more violent. Steve glared at him, rage bubbling uselessly inside him. He hated feeling powerless and weak; he always had.</p>
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<p>“The people love to see you fight, but they will love another,” Strange chattered on. Steve tried to tune him out and focused all of his energy on tugging against his restraints; there must be a weak link<em> somewhere</em>. He’d been so close. So close to wringing the truth from Arcade, from finding Bucky; now, Steve was going to be executed for his stunt and he’d never learn what fate had befallen his best friend, his partner, the love of his fucking life, his Bucky.</p>
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<p>“You breathe now only by the grace of Doom. Since the day of your <em>birth</em>, you have owed your life to Doom.”</p>
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<p>Which was fucking bullshit. He didn’t owe Doom anything.</p>
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<p>“Today you dishonoured Doom’s generosity. However. Doom is willing to make you an offer, one final job, <em>beast slayer</em>.”</p>
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<p>Steve just growled at Strange, resorting to Devil’s tactics for showing displeasure. He didn’t like to admit that he’d picked up more than a few of the dinosaur’s mannerisms in the absence of any other company, but right then, Steve didn’t give a flying fuck. He was going to break through his chains eventually, and then Strange and Doom were going to rue the day they’d ever pulled him into this world.</p>
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<p>“There is a territorial dispute with Greenland. The Mud Kingdom does not roll over like it once did. It must be destabilised, yet Doom does not wish to lower himself by interfering directly. Travel to Greenland, meet with our operative on the ground, and eliminate the Red King.”</p>
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<p>Strange spoke casually like he fully accepted that Steve was just going to roll over and accept what was nothing short of a suicide mission. The Mud Kingdom lay to the North, beyond the Badlands and the Barrens of the Tribal Hulks, the lands where all was ‘Hulk’. The journey alone would likely kill him, and if he survived, the Red King was rumoured to be a vicious, hulking monster. No one who’d gone up against him had ever survived.</p>
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<p>“Why the <em>hell</em> would I do that for you, Strange?” Steve growled.</p>
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<p>“For Barnes.”</p>
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<p>“Bucky?” Steve’s thoughts ground to a halt and the last semblance of control, or sanity, he had left vanished in the instant that Bucky’s name crossed Strange’s smirking lips. “Where is he?! Tell me!” Steve leapt to his feet and railed against the chains that held him back, just beyond the reach of Strange, and which prevented Steve from strangling him with his bare hands.</p>
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<p>“Your warbound, Bucky, is captive of the Red King. He failed in his attempt to kill him for Doom.”</p>
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<p><em>No, no</em>. Steve’s legs buckled. No, it couldn’t be. Whatever horrible scenarios he’d feared, nothing had come close to Bucky suffering at the hands of the Red King, crossing the Badlands on his own, attempting to take on the Red King alone…</p>
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<p>“You are not the first beast slayer to be asked. This is the offer,” Strange continued, seeming to take pleasure in Steve’s distress. Doom just sat as impassive as ever. “Kill the Red King. Free Bucky. Live free in Greenland with Doom’s blessing. Bucky accepted the task in return for your life. Today Doom gives you the chance to do the same for him.”</p>
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<p>It was the one thread of hope they’d clung to in recent times—after their dream of a making a home together in Brooklyn had gone up in literal flames—the chance to a free life in Greenland, no longer a slave to senseless, mindless battles…Steve swallowed down the lump in his throat and choked back tears. Bucky had braved this suicide mission for <em>him</em>, and for his efforts, he’d been taken captive by the Red King.</p>
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<p>There wasn’t a question in Steve’s mind that he would go looking for Bucky. How could he do anything else? If he was still alive, of course, Steve was going to find him, even if it meant travelling to the ends of the earth. Even if it meant going to Greenland.</p>
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<p>“I’ll do it.” Steve spat at Strange’s feet. “On one condition. I want my T-Rex back.”</p>
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<p>Strange just grinned. He conjured a complicated spell with his hands and before Steve could even begin to prepare himself, he and Devil were being transported right into the heart of the Badlands. Strange’s spell wrapped them in a dizzying vortex of colour that vanished as quickly as it had appeared and left them standing in the middle of a dustbowl, flat as the eye could see for miles in each direction with a harsh sun burning down overhead. Devil reared up and gave a startled sound that Steve tried his best to soothe. He’d never really been the best with animals, and it only made him more heartsick for Bucky. At least Strange had gifted Steve back with his axe and shield. Steve gripped them tightly and set off North to link up with Strange’s ‘operative on the ground’.</p>
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<p>It turned out that Devil was right to be scared of the Badlands. As they trekked across the never-ending dusty plains, strange things tried to kill them at every turn; giant bugs, quicksand, dust storms—it felt like nature itself had been infected with gamma and was out to get them. Things only got weirder when they hooked up with Strange’s operative: a Hulk who went by the name of Doc Green.</p>
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<p>Doc Green was an odd sort, and Steve couldn’t get a read on him. He took delight in toying with the bugs and creatures that attacked them; drawing out their deaths and causing unnecessary suffering, no matter how many times Steve had to step in and grant them a swift, merciful end. Even monsters deserved mercy—Steve would never forget that. Doc Green just mocked him for it every time.</p>
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<p>“This land is saturated by gamma, Captain. You won’t live long on trite virtue.”</p>
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<p>What was more unsettling, however, was that Doc Green seemed to know an awful lot about Steve already, and seemed to find it ironic that Strange had tasked them with working together.</p>
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<p>“You’re a Steven Rogers, alright,” he’d commented when they first met. “You can always tell by the eyes. I once knew a <em>Captain</em> with a robotic arm, I knew one with the mutant gene, I knew one with wings,” he listed off, making Steve’s head spin. “But you are the first Captain I’ve seen with a dinosaur. Doom has the soul of a poet, sending you to me, does he not? A twisted, <em>unholy</em> poet.”</p>
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<p>It was one thing to theorise about a multiverse, or that other parallel worlds might exist with other versions of himself living and breathing out there; it was quite another to hear evidence of it. Steve wondered if the other versions of Steve Rogers had also found their way to this terrible planet, or if the Doc had met them elsewhere. Did that mean the Doc knew of a way off-world, a way to escape to somewhere else? Steve dared not ask, not until he’d found Bucky, at any rate. That was his priority now, and always. He could think about the future after Bucky was found alive and well.</p>
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<p>Doc Green took the opportunity to taunt Steve about his plans for that future at every turn.</p>
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<p>“Assuming all goes to plan, we free your bosom Bucky, and then what, Captain?” Doc Green asked as they hacked through the hulked-out jungle that had replaced the plains after days of endless marching. The humidity under the leafy canopy of the trees was stifling, and Steve wasn’t sure he didn’t miss the dry heat of the plains. “You will have your warbound, you will have your dinosaur, and your freedom, as granted by Doom! A world of possibility and promise!” He laughed.</p>
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<p>Steve saw why. The more of Greenland they crossed, the more Steve could tell that being granted freedom to retire here was just a drawn-out death sentence. You couldn’t survive retirement in Greenland. There would be no airy kitchen with a pleasant view, no baking whilst Bucky tended a garden or played fetch with Devil out on the lawn. Not that Steve had seriously believed that could happen, but it had been nice to dream. For a while.</p>
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<p>“What will you do with it, Captain?” the Doc taunted him.</p>
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<p>The more Steve thought about it, the clearer it became that he and Bucky were never going to be able to retire from fighting. Not truly.</p>
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<p>“We fight,” Steve answered, though it killed him a little inside to admit it. “The three of us. We fight for what justice we can. We fight against Doom.” After he rescued Bucky, there were plenty of other people who needed to be freed and returned to their homeworlds, if such a thing were possible. Doc Green burst out laughing. Devil had the good grace to roar indignantly on Steve’s behalf.</p>
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<p>“Oh, sheathe your anger, Lord Rex,” the Doc scoffed. “I know you all too well, Captain. Allow me to give you a little counsel: it is this world of battle and strife that changes us. Not the other way around.”</p>
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<p>“I don’t need your counsel.” He was getting fed up with Doc Green challenging his sense of morality with his own brand of brand of bleak nihilism.</p>
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<p>“Ah, noble Captain, you are a piece of my heart. We are not that different. Only I have seen the true nature of this world, and you have not. Or you <em>have</em> and you choose to ignore it. Who is the only god of this world, Captain?”</p>
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<p>“…Doom?” Steve tried to guess where the Doc was going with his line of questioning.</p>
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<p>“Doom is the author of all things. But <em>war</em> is the author of Doom.”</p>
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<p>Steve just shook his head at the Doc’s poetic, but ultimately meaningless platitudes. He didn’t have the patience to argue with him. Bucky was a prisoner of the Red King. Trapped in Greenland. Who knew what horrors he was being subjected to as Steve struggled to make his way to him?</p>
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<a name="section0008"><h2>8. II. II. ii</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>*Warning* the canon-character death happens in this chapter, if you've read Planet Hulk...you know what to expect, if you haven't...then I'm sorry. More details in the end notes if you want it. 😭😭😭</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
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  <strong>II.II.ii</strong>
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<p>They were pushed off course by Bull Hulks, almost drowned by a river that had been enraged with gamma, dashed on rocks as they fell over a waterfall, and they would have been eaten by a Sea Hulk if not for Devil’s ferocious loyalty and determination to fight for Steve. And then came the Barrens, wide plains of battle scarred lands which had been bordered by a horrifying wall of skulls, apparently the remnant of a civil war. It spanned the land as far as the eye could see, taller than Steve and wide, too. It made Steve sick to his stomach.</p>
<p>“This is madness,” he whispered, as he examined one of the skulls.</p>
<p>“This is Greenland. The ultimate expression of gamma,” Doc Green expounded. “Man, however important, has no relation to salvation. It is through gamma that we may touch eternity. Man has a beginning. But war has no end.” Steve listened to the Doc with pity and wondered what on earth could have happened to him to leave him with such a bleak worldview. “Gamma burns away all that is false and impure and reveals what is already within us: an obsession with war and violence,” Doc Green continued.</p>
<p>“There is no such nonsense inside me.” Steve insisted. He’d cling to the hope of peace for as long as he could.</p>
<p>“Are you <em>sure?</em>  What would happen to you if you became corrupted by gamma? This question demands an answer from every living thing.”</p>
<p>“And what did the gamma do to you, Doctor?” Steve demanded in return.</p>
<p>“It liberated me. It gave me the strength to confront the truth within my soul. Hulk is the only reality we deny ourselves. There are no exceptions.” He turned to snarl at Steve. “Not even for you. Hunting the Red King. Already you do Doom’s dirty work.”</p>
<p>“I do no such thing.” Steve tried to protest. He was rescuing Bucky. He wasn’t doing any of this for Doom.</p>
<p>“Is that so, Captain?”</p>
<p>“At the Mud Kingdom, I’ll <em>find</em>  and <em>free </em>Bucky on my own. I have no gripe with the Red King.”</p>
<p>The Doc seemed to find Steve’s certainty amusing. “You’ll change your mind once you see the Mud Kingdom. The Red King will offend those delicate sensibilities. Or will you push against the kingdom itself? With so much injustice around you, how do you orient that moral compass, Captain?” He sneered.</p>
<p>“Doom can do his own killing. Or you can do it for him,” Steve muttered. He scanned their surroundings wearily. A storm was gathering on the horizon and the canyon they were nearing would make the perfect place for an ambush.</p>
<p>“I didn’t figure you for an oathbreaker, Captain. No. My mission only begins with the Red King’s death. I cannot get his blood on my hands; the hulks of the Mud Kingdom, they will smell it. But I am thrilled to hear you have it all figured out,” the Doc prattled on. Steve was trying to block him out, focusing on their surroundings, trying to make sure they weren’t walking into a trap. “By walking away, you’ll allow the Red King’s reign of terror to continue. All that you see around you, all the death and destruction, is his handiwork. The result of his aggression.”</p>
<p>“Quiet, Green,” Steve hissed.</p>
<p>“Of course, if you murder the Red King for his crimes, you’ll be doing exactly what Doom wants you to do. You’ll be his errand boy, his little servant,” Doc Green mocked.</p>
<p>It was the final straw.</p>
<p>“Enough!” Steve snapped and turned his axe on the Doc. He didn’t need his help any longer. The Mud Kingdom was on the other side of this gorge, Steve could make his own way. “Do not question me! You senseless brute! You know nothing of me-”</p>
<p>A great sound of thunder filled the gorge, reverberating off the walls and cutting Steve off.</p>
<p>“Let’s return to that thought, Captain. It is far too late for us. The skies have grown dark. The storm has arrived.”</p>
<p>All at once, everything went dark. Lightning flickered across the sky, illuminating everything in vivid contrast for a heartbeat, and Devil gave a terrified roar.</p>
<p>“Devil, be calm, match my breathing, match my breathing,” Steve tried to comfort Devil as his own heart thundered in his chest. Then, in the dark between flares of lightning, the ambush Steve had been fearing rained down on him in a hail of arrows and spears. Steve felt agony spike through his arms and legs in multiple places as great hulking shapes lurched from the shadows to subdue him.</p>
<p>*✪･ﾟ⍟* ✪*⍟ﾟ･✪*</p>
<p>Steve had had plenty of time as they crossed Greenland to contemplate how he might enter the Mud Kingdom, axe and shield held aloft as he rode in on Devil’s back to ambush the Red King in his keep and free Bucky. He hadn’t factored being carted in, bound as the prisoner of a tribe of hulks, stripped of his axe, his shield, his dinosaur, and any dignity he had left.</p>
<p>As usual, his first thought was for Bucky. As usual, his pleas to find him went unanswered.</p>
<p>Steve didn't know where Devil had run off to, but he took comfort from the fact that the dinosaur hadn't been captured along with him. But it was a small comfort at best. The hulks dragged Steve through the mud, on the outskirts of the city, walking him through crowds of people toiling away at back-breaking work, mining ore from the ground. Doc Green’s taunts roiled in Steve’s gut. How <em>could </em>he let this injustice stand? He recognised the sounds of pickaxes striking against the lumps of metal being prized from the earth; it was the same sound his axe made striking his shield. They were mining vibranium. Masses of it. Steve watched as great boulders of the stuff were carted around. But if that was the case, how was this kingdom not rich? All he saw was toil and pain. Clearly, the Red King was keeping these people down in the mud.</p>
<p>Steve’s rage began to boil, but before he could lash out and do something stupid, like try to take on an army of Hulks alone and already bound, Doc Green rushed in out of nowhere, claiming Steve in the name of Doom and fighting to free him; stealing Steve’s axe and shield from the Hulks in the fray. Steve was too stunned and disorientated, as the serum continued working overtime to heal his injuries, to do anything other than let it happen.</p>
<p>The Doc threw Steve over his shoulder and swept him away from the mines towards the city; bounding up walls and leaping from rooftop to rooftop until they came to a stop in the heart of the Mud Kingdom. Only then did he let Steve fall from his grip, to crumple on the flat roof of a building. Steve rolled over onto his side and let himself breathe for a moment, letting his pain level out to something manageable before he tried to move any further.</p>
<p>“This is as good as it gets, Captain. This is the high-water mark of Greenland. The Mud Kingdom of the Red King. Even civilisation has been corrupted by Gamma.”</p>
<p>Steve forced himself to his knees stared down upon the city of Mud Kingdom; seeing a place filled with poverty and pain. Steve’s own pain finally caught up with him and he doubled over for a beat, mentally cataloguing the injuries his serum was already working hard to fix. He’d broken a few ribs for sure, and the wounds from the arrows had pierced him deeply. He braced his ribs by wrapping an arm around his torso and stared up at the Doc. “Why did you save me?”</p>
<p>Doc Green didn’t answer, just inclined his head towards a vibranium-grey castle standing apart from the rest of the city.</p>
<p>“There. The castle. That’s where you’ll find the Red King. And Bucky. But first, you need rest.”</p>
<p>Steve could probably do with a good twelve-hour kip to let the serum work its magic, but he didn’t have a second to waste. He couldn’t let Bucky suffer for a second longer. “No. I go there now. Bucky needs me.” He pushed himself to his feet and ground his teeth, breathing through the pain; he’d been through worse. He could cope with this. He hefted his axe into his hand and gripped tightly to the straps of his shield.</p>
<p>Doc Green turned on him, looking angry. “Beware, Captain. There is no grace here. No absolution. This is not like the time you stole pies from Grandma Hubbard… and your dinosaur has abandoned you.”</p>
<p>Steve was rocked to his core.</p>
<p>“What did you say? How did you know about Bucky’s grandmother?” he demanded, heart rate rising. Who the hell <em>was </em>this guy? “Who are you?”</p>
<p>“We are all Hulk, Captain. The gamma scrubs the mirror clean of pretension. It shows us who we really are.”</p>
<p>“We are not born Hulk, Green!” Steve argued. “Who were you before the gamma? Tell me!”</p>
<p>Before Doc Green could evade his questions with any more pro-gamma prattle, a thundering roar broke through the city below in a cloud of dust and chaos. Devil. Steve grinned. The Doc looked stunned.</p>
<p>“He came back for you. Incredible.”</p>
<p>Steve paid the Doc’s surprise no heed. Had he not seen enough evidence of Devil’s loyalty yet?</p>
<p>“He didn’t just come back for <em>me</em>.” Steve grinned. He pressed forward to the edge of the rooftop and glanced down at the drop from the roof to the ground below. He’d survived falls from higher before, admittedly he hadn’t already been that badly injured before, but Steve could weather it; for Bucky’s sake. He took a running leap from the edge of the rooftop, and leapt, using his shield to absorb most of the impact of the fall. It still jarred him and if his ribs weren't broken before, they definitely were now. Steve hissed through the pain and ran to Devil’s side. He ran his hands across the scales of Devi’s nose and felt hope stir in his chest once again. “Are you ready, brother?” Devil growled in response. Steve adjusted the grip on his axe, and turned to face the hoard of Hulks that had banded together to bar Steve’s way to the Red King’s castle. Barring their way to Bucky.</p>
<p>“For the Red King! Get them!” The Hulks roared.</p>
<p>“For Bucky!” Steve and Devil roared in response.</p>
<p><em>Can you hear us coming for you?</em>  Steve sent his thoughts out to Bucky. <em>We are here for you, at the earth’s end. </em></p>
<p>Steve and Devil battled through the chaos, the thoughts of Bucky, his longing for him and his love working harder than any adrenaline to keep him pressing forwards.</p>
<p><em>I cannot think of you here, surrounded by gamma and blood. Instead, I think of us back home. Bright summer days, free of war. I pray you are unhurt. Because if they have harmed you, I swear – we will destroy this land</em>. <em>We will bring down a rage upon them so savage…</em></p>
<p>With Devil’s help, Steve stormed the keep, climbing Devil’s neck to break through the parapets of a tower top, fighting his way past the guards and up the spiral stone staircase towards the throne room. Steve strode into the throne room with as much courage as he could muster, gripping tightly to the handle of his axe and trying not to show his fear. The Red King was just as menacing as the gossip and rumours had made him out to be; lounging on a throne of vibranium, drinking blood-red wine from a skull. At least, Steve hoped that it was wine.</p>
<p>“I’m almost <em>insulted</em>.” He looked Steve up and down and sniffed, unimpressed. “When will Doom test me with a real opponent?”</p>
<p>Steve refused to rise to the Red King’s taunts, standing his ground.</p>
<p>“Are you the Red King?”</p>
<p>“Indeed I am. And <em>you</em> are?”</p>
<p>“God Doom has sent me to kill you. But I have no quarrel with you, hulk.” Steve began as diplomatically as he could whilst his blood boiled at the injustices he’d seen throughout Greenland. But Bucky’s safety was Steve’s priority, first and foremost. The rest of the troubles could wait until he knew that Bucky was safe. “I am here for my warbound, Bucky. He is your prisoner. Release him to me and I will spare your life!” Steve warned as threateningly as he could.</p>
<p>“Prisoner…?” The Red King chuckled.</p>
<p>“Where is Bucky? Tell me now!” Steve was getting fed up with asking that question. He was sick and tired of not knowing. He was so close. So close. Bucky was in this castle somewhere, and the Red King was taunting him, <em>laughing</em> at him.</p>
<p>“Prisoner. Heh.” The Red King knocked his head back and laughed. “Prisoner!”</p>
<p>“Shut up! I am not bluffing, Hulk!”</p>
<p>“Doom sent you here to find Bucky?!”</p>
<p>“I have fought and battled across this cursed land for Bucky! And I will not stop until I find him!” Steve bellowed the promise of violence at the Red King, lifting his axe and shield ready to fight for the answers he so desperately needed.</p>
<p>The Red King laughed again. “Doom lied to you.”</p>
<p>Steve’s breath caught in his throat. His chest felt tight with pains he hadn’t suffered since before the operation he’d had when he was fourteen. If Bucky wasn’t a prisoner here, then where the hell was he? Had Doom orchestrated this whole thing just for Steve to kill the Red King, had he left Bucky back in Doomstadt? The possibilities raced around Steve’s mind until the Red King loomed forwards and grinned right in Steve’s face with a terrible smile, and Steve’s world fell irreparably apart.</p>
<p>“I sent Bucky’s head to Doomsgard a <em>month</em> ago.”</p>
<p>No. No. No. No. It wasn’t possible. It couldn’t be possible. Steve refused to believe it. The Red King was taunting him. Lying to him. He had to be.</p>
<p>“Bucky is not my prisoner! He is my trophy!” The Red King fished a metal arm from behind his throne and threw it at Steve’s feet with a mirthless laugh.</p>
<p>Steve watched the arm, which must have been ripped clean from Bucky’s shoulder, land with a dull thunk. He fell to his knees, overcome with too much horror and dread to fully process anything. His heart cracked right down the middle. He couldn’t breathe, he couldn’t think.</p>
<p>“Bucky?” Steve let his axe clatter to the floor and reached for the arm. Cradling it to his chest, he intertwined the fingers of Bucky’s arm – the arm which had held him so many times – with his own. It felt like he was clutching at a ghost. “How…?” Steve’s hoarse voice somehow remembered how to speak. How had he died? Steve needed to know that it was quick. He needed to know that Bucky hadn’t suffered. Needed to know who had killed him so that he knew where to direct his vengeance.</p>
<p>“Simple, Captain. God Doom sent Bucky to kill me. He would not be dissuaded from his mission. So, it became a matter of survival of the fittest. Have you read God Doom’s <em>Origin of the Species</em>?”</p>
<p>Steve stopped listening. “You – you did this. Red King. You monster!”</p>
<p>“Who is the real monster?” The Red King sipped lazily from his skull cup. “It was God Doom who killed him. Doom who sent him into a hopeless, absurd position. Doom who is responsible. It is God Doom who would have us all kill each other. A perverse performance. In tribute to his magnificence. A cycle to continue, forever and ever. All hail God Doom,” the Red King intoned. “But there is another option. I control the vibranium. I have a Hulk army. Join me. And we will strike back against God Doom. It is the only revenge for your comrade.”</p>
<p>Steve wasn’t listening. His mind was spiralling. Bucky was dead. Nothing else mattered. He did pick up on one word though.</p>
<p>“Yes, revenge.” Steve pushed himself to his feet. The Red King grinned his terrible smile once more.</p>
<p>“Welcome to the revolution. Shall we toast? Doom is all-powerful, but he has one weakness which only I have discovered-”</p>
<p>Steve didn’t care. He didn’t care about anything beyond the red wall of rage that filled his vision. He swung his axe into the Red King’s calves with a resounded <em>thunk.</em></p>
<p>The Red King staggered forwards, gasping in pain before wheeling around to punch Steve with an unparalleled force. Of all the opponents Steve had come up against in the Killiseum none had sent him reeling back like that, head ringing and dizzy with pain. Steve took a moment to regroup, letting his anger course through him as the Red King continued to spout rage.</p>
<p>“You worm! You pathetic---!” The Red King swung his fist again but this time, Steve danced out of the way. “I will grind you down to dust!”</p>
<p>Steve twirled and leapt, bringing his shield down over the Red King’s head. “YOU KILLED BUCKY!” He screamed with an all-encompassing rage. “He was my best friend!” Steve brought the shield down again, cracking through the Red King’s skull and sending up a spray of blood that splattered hot and wet on Steve’s face. “He saved my life a hundred times!” Steve screamed, slamming his shield down again and again until it cut right through the corded muscle of the Red King’s neck. “I vowed to protect him! And now ---” Steve crumpled and let the shield fall from his hands. He’d failed. He’d failed Bucky in the worst way possible. “Bucky.” Steve wiped his hands frantically on the front of his tunic and reverently picked up Bucky’s arm, securing it over his shoulder. “I swore I’d always have your back.” <em>I’m sorry</em>.</p>
<p>* ✪･ ⍟ * ✪* ⍟ ･✪ *</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>The Red King kills Bucky. This is why Planet Hulk Steve needs a happy ending. He'll eventually meet-up with Endgame Bucky and they'll forge a happy ending together. 💙💙💙💙💙💙</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0009"><h2>9. II . II . iii</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>
  <strong>**Double Update**</strong>
</p>
<p>Chapters 8 &amp; 9 were posted today, so make sure you've read chapter 8 too 😊</p>
<p>(and I'm sorry in advance 😭💔)</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <strong>II.II.iii</strong>
</p>
<p>Steve didn’t know how long he stood there, consumed by his grief until he was rudely interrupted by Doc Green, swaggering in to profit off of Steve’s loss of control.</p>
<p>“Congratulations, Captain. Mission accomplished!”</p>
<p>“I am in no mood for you.” Steve stooped to collect his axe and shield. He didn’t need to put up with Doc Green’s inane ramblings any longer.</p>
<p>“So. You embraced the Hulk within. I knew you would. God Doom will be pleased with your performance.” He smirked. Steve realised with a sickening jolt that Doc Green didn’t look surprised to see Bucky’s arm slung over his shoulder.</p>
<p>“Doc Green-!”</p>
<p>“The Red King is dead. Now the Mud Kingdom is mine to rule. <em>All hail God Doom</em>.”</p>
<p>“You knew,” Steve said simply. His gut twisted horribly with the realisation.</p>
<p>“That Bucky was already dead? Of course, I <em>knew</em>, but if I told you, you would never have-”</p>
<p>Steve’s anger snapped for the second time.</p>
<p>“YOU PUSHED ME ACROSS THIS ACCURSED LAND! YOU LET ME BELIEVE I COULD SAVE HIM! YOU MANIPULATED ME! SET ME UP TO KILL THE RED KING!” he bellowed. Doc Green didn’t look fazed.</p>
<p>“Ah ha. Not <em>quite</em>, Captain. You knew Bucky was dead when you killed the Red King. You did that yourself. You succumbed to your own rage. To the Hulk inside you.”</p>
<p>Steve was seething. How dare…how <em>dare</em> he?</p>
<p>“There is no Hulk inside me, fool. I did it to avenge Bucky’s death.”</p>
<p>“Captain, if the Hulk is not within us, then we are as hollow as the void in the sky. This is a planet of battle and war and blood, draped in a sheet of civilization.”</p>
<p>“I am nothing like you!” Steve raged, squaring up to Doc Green. Doc Green loomed over him; veins popped and bulged in his forehead.</p>
<p>“You pompous idiot!” He yelled at Steve. His skin began to glow with the fluorescent green of gamma radiation. “You grasp onto your illusions when the truth is within you all along.” Doc Green’s skin pulsed and rumbled with transformation, mutating, and shrinking. He gave a continuous howl of agony until the green light faded away, leaving a much smaller figure standing in his stead. A figure Steve hadn’t seen for nearly ten years.</p>
<p>Steve staggered back in shock, confronted by his reflection; a carbon copy of himself from before the serum. All 5’4” and 95 lbs of him.</p>
<p>“You see? We are not so different, you and I. We are hardly different at all, Steven Rogers.”</p>
<p>Everything fell into place with a sickening clarity.</p>
<p>
  <em>(“You are a piece of my heart. We are not that different.”)</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>(“Doom has the soul of a poet, sending you to me, does he not? A twisted, unholy poet.”)</em>
</p>
<p>No. Steve refused to believe it. He refused to believe that someone so twisted, whose morality had become so corrupted, who had manipulated him with such ease, could ever possibly share anything in common with him.</p>
<p>“I <em>told </em>you Doom had the soul of a poet in sending you to me.” The copy of Steve sneered.</p>
<p>“No.”</p>
<p>“A joke on both of us.”</p>
<p>“How?” Steve was stunned. This didn’t make any sense. It must have been a fever dream. Any minute, he’d wake to find Bucky laying a soothing hand on his brow, telling him that everything was going to be okay. How desperately he wished that that would be the case.</p>
<p>“Now, you see the truth about yourself in me. We are both Steve Rogers, analogs from different kingdoms.” Doc Green – the other Steve – revelled in Steve’s horror.</p>
<p>“How can this be? What happened to you?”</p>
<p>“I found gamma and I found the truth. We had similar lives, Steven. Up to a point.”</p>
<p>Steve listened in horror as Doc Green told him of the war in his New York, how an air raid had caught him and Bucky unawares, too far from the subway station to make it to shelter in time. There was no pain in Doc Green’s voice as he described how he searched through the rubble to find Bucky, only bitterness and anger. Steve didn’t want to listen to what happened next; he could already see where this was going.</p>
<p>“He died.” Doc Green spat. “I held him in my arms as he spluttered his last breath. I felt rage, Captain. The kind you just discovered. I enlisted with the super-soldier program, hellbent on revenge, and they injected me with the serum, amplified it with a blast of gamma, and I became <em>strong</em>.” He flashed his teeth and grinned. “Once empowered by gamma, the world opened itself to me.”</p>
<p>Steve shook his head. “You never knew Bucky.”</p>
<p>“I did. And then I didn’t. But my friend, in his death, wiped the deception from my eyes. Your friend, in his life, sheltered and blinded you from reality.”</p>
<p>Tears stung at the corners of Steve’s eyes, and whatever cracked, broken fragments of his heart still beat in his chest ached terribly for this poor, wayward boy, this other Steve who had somehow strayed so far from what was right.</p>
<p>“Gamma courses through my veins, making me bigger, stronger. But Bucky’s idealistic influence corrupts you. Makes you stupid. Easy to fool.”</p>
<p>Steve wouldn’t hear any more of it. “You’re wrong! Bucky did not make me weak!”</p>
<p>“And your loyalty to your fallen friend is why you will walk away now, and leave Greenland in my hands, as savage as you found it. As God Doom wills it. As this world demands.”</p>
<p>Hearing those words from his own mouth and seeing his own face twisted into such a sinister smirk broke something inside Steve.</p>
<p>“You are wrong, Doctor. Bucky inspired me. Bucky made me better than strong, he made me <em>brave</em>.” Steve lowered Bucky’s arm to the floor and raised his axe. “What have you become without him? A <em>coward</em>. Bucky made me brave enough to do what must be done.”</p>
<p>The other Steve just stood there grinning with his stupid vindictive smile, and Steve couldn’t take it a moment longer.</p>
<p>“Let me show you.”</p>
<p>It was all too easy to bring his axe crashing down. All too easy to bury it in the chest of his mirror image. Steve felt terrible the moment his axe fell, the moment he staggered back and saw the other Steve sprawled dead on the floor.</p>
<p>Oh god, what had he done? Steve stared at his hands, covered in a spray of blood. <em>His</em> blood. Steve retched. If there had been anything in his stomach to throw up, he would have vomited. As it was, he was running on fumes.</p>
<p>Steve stumbled back from the gory scene, ready to fling himself into oblivion. He let his eyes trail from the other Steve’s lifeless body to the carnage of the Red King’s decapitated form. There was still something that needed to be done. Steve buried his revulsion and gripped the Red King’s hair by its thick dark braid and stumbled out to the balcony.</p>
<p>Below him, Devil’s battle with the Hulks wore on. Steve watched for half a beat, surveying the chaos and destruction until he could stand it no more.</p>
<p>“Here is your king!” he shouted and held the Red King’s head aloft. He didn’t look at the blood dripping from the base of the skull. Didn’t think about Bucky’s head, which had been similarly delivered to Doom a month ago. Steve threw the head to the Hulks and watched their astonishment without emotion. He flipped over the wall and climbed down the side of the tower to stumble towards Devil.</p>
<p>Devil growled as Steve approached alone.</p>
<p>“Devil… brother.” Steve presented Bucky’s arm to Devil, head bowed in shame. “All is lost.” Steve’s voice broke and the tears he’d been holding back spilled freely until he was a snotty, bawling mess. Bucky would have told him to pull himself together before hauling him in for a hug. Except that Bucky was never going to tell him anything ever again.</p>
<p>Devil sniffed at the arm.</p>
<p>“I’m sorry. I told you we would find him. Bucky… he’s gone. He’s…”</p>
<p>A whimper of anguish trembled through Devil and he blew fiercely from his nostrils before he reared back and let out a deafening roar of grief that resonated deeply with Steve’s own. Then, in a completely unexpected move, Devil butted his nose against Steve’s chest, gently, like he was seeking comfort.</p>
<p>“I’m afraid, brother.” Steve wrapped his arms around Devil’s snout and sobbed against him. “Bucky… he always made me feel like there was hope. That the future was worth fighting for. But there is no future, now.”</p>
<p>Without Bucky what hope was there? What was there left for Steve to do?</p>
<p>“Is there anything left for us besides blood and violence? We should never have come here.” Steve trailed his hand along Devil’s jaw, giving it a last snick for comfort before straightening up. He shouldered his shield and made sure he had a firm grip on Bucky’s arm before he turned to stride away from the Mud Kingdom. The Hulks watched on in silence, stunned by the death of the Red King, the fight was gone from them; they let Steve and Devil walk away unchallenged.</p>
<p>“Come, brother. Let us go. Don’t look back, Devil. Never look back.”</p>
<p>Steve could never make amends for what he’d done. He’d vowed that even monsters deserved mercy, and yet he’d killed a man in cold blood. A man he should have tried to help, not slaughter. A version of himself, no less.</p>
<p>He couldn’t hope to untangle the sorry mess of the Mud Kingdom, and Steve no longer felt like it would have been right for him to try. He couldn’t trust his moral judgement anymore. But there were still some wrongs he <em>knew</em> he had to right. Steve hadn’t lied when he’d told Doc Green of his plans for after the mission was complete; he had to take the fight to Doom. He had to try and right some of the injustices there.</p>
<p>Steve trekked with Devil back through the Badlands, back towards Doomsgard, towards Doomstadt, feeling more despondent with every passing day. Without the motivation of finding Bucky to spur him on, Steve felt listless, adrift, unmoored. He knew he should be burning with a righteous fury directed at Doom and all he stood for, but Steve found himself unable to summon that kind of energy. He felt spent and wrung out. He had nothing left to give. All the while, his thoughts cycled back to Bucky, how Steve had failed him, how he’d failed himself by giving way to his anger. It would have been all too easy to just let the monsters of Greenland have their way. As he and Devil followed the course of the river back towards Port Banner and the sea on which Doomstadt stood, Steve had to consciously make the effort not to give himself over to the currents, to let himself swept out to sea and let whatever monsters or waterfalls he encountered do what they would with him.</p>
<p>Devil growled, sensing Steve’s ill mood.</p>
<p>“Sorry, brother.” Steve tried to clear his head and force a sense of calm. “I won’t leave you.” Devil just grumbled again.</p>
<p>Steve lost track of how long they drifted through the gamma wasteland. An electrical storm moved in, clouds gathered menacingly on the horizon, and Devil roared back at the thunder when it crashed and boomed through the sky. Steve tipped his head back and stood with open arms, waiting for the rain to soak him, hoping he might find some absolution in a good storm. But it never came.</p>
<p>Thunder crackled, and with it came a rippling fissure tore through the air, cutting right between him and Devil. Steve stared, waiting for a new horror to emerge, but all he saw through the tear was blue skies. Steve could hear Devil <em>snicking</em> and growling from the back of his throat, though they were cut off from another by the slice of the new world that stood between them.</p>
<p>“It’s alright,” Steve called out. “It’s ---” but he had no idea what it was, or what was happening. He gripped his shield and lowered his stance. The storm was approaching, and the winds picked up, whipping around his face. “Devil, stay back!” Steve shouted the warning as the wind began to tug at his limbs. He tried to dig his heels in and hold his ground but it was like fighting a tornado. He dropped to the floor and dug his shield into the earth, holding tight for dear life, but even that wasn’t enough. Steve’s grip was ripped from his shield and he fell, tumbling and falling, his ears filled with the rush of the wind and a thundering howl from Devil as he was swept feet-first into the unknown.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>I'm sorry 😭😭😭</p>
<p>but on the brightside...we're now up to the part that you've all been waiting for! Check back soon for <strong>Part Three: The Madness of the Multiverse</strong></p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0010"><h2>10. III . i . i</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Sorry for the delay! Here's part three, aka, the part you've all been waiting for 😊💙✨</p>
<p>Thanks as always to Kit for beta reading this for me and helping to make sense of my muddled first draft! (any remaining mistakes are my own)</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <strong>Part Three: The Madness of the Multiverse</strong>
</p>
<p>
  <strong>
    
  </strong>
</p>
<p>
  <span class="u">
    <strong>III.I. Happiness in Times of Misery</strong>
  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>There is no greater sorrow than to recall happiness in times of misery</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>- Dante Alighieri, The Divine Comedy</em>
</p>
<p>
  <strong>III.I.i</strong>
</p>
<p>Steve landed with a thump that knocked all the air from his lungs and felt like it shattered his freshly-healed ribs. He lay in a crumpled heap trying to catch his breath and waiting for the serum to heal him enough to think about moving. The air smelt acrid, full of the smoke and bitter fumes that followed a heavy shelling. He groaned and grunted slightly, lifting his head to survey his surroundings. For a moment, he thought he was back on his own world in the wake of a battle in Brooklyn, but the skyline wasn’t right, and the low shapes of the buildings looked more like a military compound. Still, it looked and felt more like his home world than the place he’d just left. Gingerly, Steve tried to stand on his feet.</p>
<p>“Are you hurt?” a voice asked from behind Steve, a voice that Steve would know anywhere. A voice Steve had never dared to hope he’d hear again. “It’s alright, you’re gonna be alright,” Bucky assured him.</p>
<p>Steve whirled around and stared in disbelief. “<em>Bucky</em>?” And it most certainly was Bucky. His hair was shorter than Steve had ever seen it; he looked older, too, and splattered with blood from the recent battle, but Steve would know Bucky anywhere.</p>
<p>“<em>Steve?</em>” Bucky looked just as surprised and heartbroken to see him as Steve did, and by god, did that pull on Steve’s heartstrings. What horrors had the Bucky and Steve on this Earth been put through? Maybe it was Steve who hadn’t survived the shelling this time.</p>
<p>“Bucky.” Steve was powerless to say anything else. He felt tears well in the corners of his eyes and staggered forwards to pull Bucky into a tight embrace. It felt like coming home, and Steve clung to him for dear life.</p>
<p>“Am I dead?” Bucky asked, sounding faintly terrified.</p>
<p>Oh god. Steve whimpered, wanting to cry out ‘<em>yes, I’m so sorry.</em>’ But he didn’t think that was what Bucky was asking. The same thought had flashed through his own mind, however briefly, when he’d crashed through the portal, but Steve didn’t think he’d died. He was pretty sure there weren’t meant to be this many aches and pains in the afterlife. “I don’t think so.” Steve curled his hand at the nape of Bucky’s neck and reluctantly stepped back to survey him, horrified to notice just how much blood there was smeared down Bucky’s front. “You’re hurt?”</p>
<p>“Just a nosebleed.” Bucky brushed off Steve’s concern, downplaying his injuries like he always had. But he wavered on his feet, clearly weaker than he was letting on. Steve reached out with his other hand to steady him, and Bucky smiled up with a grateful, loving smile that made Steve melt, until Bucky’s brow furrowed and his grip around Steve’s wrist tightened. “Where did you come from? And where’s Sam?”</p>
<p>Steve didn’t know who Sam was, and as to where he’d come from, there wasn’t an easy answer. He clenched his jaw and mulled over his response, but before he had a chance to reply, Bucky’s eyes glassed over. He wobbled slightly, and that was the only warning Steve had before Bucky went down like a lead weight. Steve’s enhanced reflexes were the only thing that let him catch Bucky before he crashed to the floor.</p>
<p>Not just a nosebleed, then.</p>
<p>“Bucky?” Steve’s voice cracked as he cradled Bucky to his chest before he turned his head away from Bucky’s ears and yelled for help as loudly as his super-soldier lungs would let him. What cruel twist of fate was this that Steve had arrived just in time to watch Bucky die? He held Bucky tight and pressed his head to Bucky’s chest, relieved to hear the faint hammering of his heartbeat and feel the soft rise and fall of his chest. “Hang in there, Buck. You’re going to be alright.” <em>You have to be. </em></p>
<p>Black-clad agents emerged from the rubble, startled by Steve’s bellows, and some of them scrambled over towards him. Steve handed Bucky over to their medical care, far too compromised to administer any himself. A gentle hand found his shoulder and Steve turned to find a blonde woman he didn’t know staring at him in shock.</p>
<p>“<em>Steve</em>?” She gaped, clearly recognising a different version of him. Her surprise and evident incredulity gave weight to Steve's fear that the Steve from this earth had died. “What happened to you? How are you here?” she demanded, looking at Steve like she’d seen a ghost.</p>
<p>Steve’s mouth felt thick and he had to work his jaw a few times before he could find the right words. “I’m from a different earth,” he eventually managed to say. It seemed to sum things up nicely. The woman clamped her mouth shut and considered that for a moment, she was still frowning, but with a reasonable confusion, not like she thought Steve was insane. “Bucky? What happened to him? Will he be okay?” Steve had to ask, feeling tears well up in his eyes again. Whatever else happened Steve knew he wouldn’t have the strength to watch Bucky die.</p>
<p>“I don’t know,” the blonde woman answered honestly. “But we’ll get him the best medical care there is, okay?” Steve nodded numbly and the blonde women stared at him with a critical, appraising eye. “And I need you to come with me. Back to New York.” She looked him up and down. “We have some questions.”</p>
<p>“Who’s ‘we’?” Steve asked, not that it really mattered. If they were taking Bucky, Steve would follow them regardless.</p>
<p>“The Avengers.”</p>
<p>Steve gave her a blank look until she elaborated.</p>
<p>“A… defence initiative.” She searched around for the right words. “Tasked with protecting earth. I think we’ll try and deal with this in-house before I let the CIA know about you,” she added with an arched eyebrow and just a hint of a smile.</p>
<p>Steve nodded, marvelling at how well she was taking this situation in stride.</p>
<p>“You don’t know me, do you?”</p>
<p>Steve shook his head.</p>
<p>“Sharon Carter.” She held out her hand for Steve to shake, which he did, racking his brain for a hint of recognition.</p>
<p>“Agent 13?” he asked. “Director of SHIELD?” He blinked at the blonde woman. He’d never personally met the Sharon Carter from his world—the army and SHIELD rarely teamed up for missions—but SHIELD’s intel had been instrumental in holding Apocalypse and his army back for so long. He cleared his throat and tried to remember the manners he hadn’t needed to use for years. “It’s an honour to meet you.”</p>
<p>Sharon’s eyebrows quirked at that. “You’re really not from this Earth,” was all the comment she gave. Steve had no idea what to make of that. “C’mon, let’s get you on the chopper.”</p>
<p>There were other casualties who needed attention, including a couple of seemingly important people who needed to be airlifted out to local hospitals, and Sharon—who appeared to be running point on the situation—had to accompany them.</p>
<p>“Doctor Banner will be expecting you at the compound,” Sharon told Steve once Bucky had been safely loaded onto a helicopter. “Are you familiar with him?”</p>
<p>Steve didn’t think so, although the name ‘Banner’ rang some distant bell.</p>
<p>“Well, don’t be put off by his appearance. He’s a brilliant scientist and doctor, and he’s not a threat to you. He’ll have questions about where you came from. Please answer as honestly as you can,” Sharon said. “I’ll catch up with you and Bucky once I’ve dealt with this mess, and we’ll start figuring out how to get you home, okay?”</p>
<p>Steve was left to mull over Sharon’s words as he sat by Bucky’s bedside on the flight, wondering what about Doctor Banner’s appearance he might find so threatening and what sort of a ‘home’ there was for him to return to. Steve didn’t give much thought to either question, far more preoccupied with monitoring Bucky’s breathing and watching the vital signs from the various machines he’d been hooked up to. A medic had started him on an IV drip of fluids and a blood transfusion to replace some of the blood that had clearly gushed from his nose before they’d loaded him into the chopper and left him with Steve. He was alive, but only just, and he remained resolutely unconscious for the full duration of the flight.</p>
<p>When the pilot announced they were approaching New York, Steve turned his attention to the window and watched his home city—or at least a version of it—pass below. It looked subtly different to the city he’d grown up in, and although it was nowhere as devastated as the ruins of the city he’d known during the war, something bad had clearly happened on this Earth. What looked like a shanty town sprawled around the edges of the city and wide swathes of the suburbs looked like they’d been left to rot and ruin. The chopper swept over the city and swung northwest, heading upstate to follow the line of the Hudson until they began to descend onto a small cluster of white and shiny silver buildings. The helicopter touched down with a soft bounce that didn’t disturb Bucky. The pilot shut down the engines, and once the rotor blades had stopped spinning, the helicopter door was opened from the outside by a team of proficient-looking medical staff who quickly unloaded Bucky’s gurney and whisked him away inside the compound.</p>
<p>Steve scrambled after them, distantly noticing the sound of the helicopter taking off again behind him. He caught up with the medics before they reached the doors and followed along behind them as they wove through spotless empty corridors, pushing through into a medical suite that threatened to blind Steve with how white and sterile it was.</p>
<p>“Alright, let’s see what we’re dealing with,” a gentle voice called out.</p>
<p>Steve tore his eyes from Bucky’s unconscious form and found himself face to face with a Hulk. He scrambled back, heart beating furiously, and for a moment he was completely disorientated. His first instinct was to look around for a weapon, and he grabbed a chair standing beside the door, positioning it between himself and the Hulk as his mind raced through fighting strategies that wouldn’t risk injuring Bucky. But then his senses caught up with his panic and he realised that the Hulk was speaking in a calm and controlled manner, coordinating with the medical staff to carefully move Bucky from the gurney and into a proper hospital bed. It felt like a strange, surreal parody of the last few days. Steve half expected to wake up and find he’d swallowed some gamma-infused hallucinogenic mushrooms or something, and that Devil would be snoring by his side. But when he pinched the inside of his upper arm and felt a sharp sting, he was forced to accept that this was all real, however strange and impossible it felt.</p>
<p>Steve watched on, helpless, still gripping tight to the back of the chair for fortification as the medics removed Bucky’s blood transfusion line and replaced his IV bag. They positioned the bed in the centre of the room and booted up a strange-looking machine that Steve couldn’t even begin to guess the purpose of. It looked almost like a dentist’s lamp, but as it passed over Bucky, it cast him in a strange blue light that seemed to map his body, and suddenly vitals and readouts began to appear on digital read-outs on the wall—no, Steve noticed with interest, not on the wall; the screen hung in the air like a holographic projection without the need for a projector or a screen. The Hulk poured over the readings carefully before nodding and talking with the medics in words that completely washed over Steve’s head. The only thing Steve picked up was that the medics were addressing the Hulk as Doctor Banner.</p>
<p>
  <em>(“Don’t be put off by his appearance.”)</em>
</p>
<p>Steve almost laughed. That was hardly an adequate warning. Banner’s voice was quietly calm and competent, though, completely at odds with his green, hulked-out form. Maybe Steve could believe Agent 13 that Banner wasn’t a threat. He still felt uneasy, though, only managing to keep himself in the room for Bucky’s sake, and when Banner began to stride towards him, Steve still felt himself shrink back.</p>
<p>“He’ll be okay,” Banner said, and took another step towards Steve, then frowned at the chair positioned between them.</p>
<p>Steve took another shaky step back, trying to maintain his distance from the Hulk, but at the same time as his anxiety spiked over his own safety, Steve felt an ache dislodge from his chest as relief flooded through him at the knowledge that Bucky was going to be okay.</p>
<p>“The serum’s already working hard to repair the damage to his brain. Sharon told me that Bucky thought Zemo had tried to use a kill code on him, but whatever it did, it didn’t have its intended effect. I suspect he might sleep for a day or so, then he’ll need a few weeks of taking it easy.” Banner gave Steve a smile, then frowned at him, giving him an appraising look up and down. “Are you hurt?”</p>
<p>“No.” Steve shook his head. His voice sounded far weaker than he would have liked. He looked over Banner’s shoulder at Bucky, his thoughts still stuck on something Banner had said. “A kill code?”</p>
<p>“Don’t worry. It didn’t work,” Banner assured him, missing Steve’s point entirely. His confusion must have shown across his face because Banner gave an odd sort of smile and nodded. “Things must have gone a little differently for you. It’s, uh…it’s Bucky’s story to tell, not mine,” Banner finally decided after faltering. “But he’ll be okay now, Steve I promise. I bet you have a lot of questions.”</p>
<p>That was putting it mildly. “Yes.”</p>
<p>“As do I. Sharon thinks you’re from another Earth?”</p>
<p>This time Steve could only nod.</p>
<p>“<em>Fascinating</em>.” Banner stared at Steve, appraising him like he was some sort of specimen. Steve squared his shoulders and clenched his jaw. “Come with me, I need to run some tests.”</p>
<p>Steve struggled to vocalise his reluctance to leave Bucky, but apparently Banner could read that from his expression.</p>
<p>“Steve. I promise he’s going to be okay. The team’s going to get him cleaned up and situated in a room. Until then, all we can do is wait for him to wake up. You, on the other hand…” Banner gave him another appraising stare and gestured for Steve to exit the room. Steve didn’t really fancy his chances against the Hulk, no matter how mild mannered he <em>appeared </em>to be. If there was one thing he’d learned in the last few days, it was that appearances could be very deceiving. So, he let himself be escorted to a different room that looked more like a lab than a hospital suite, and he stood stoic and still in the centre of the room as another one of the fancy holographic scanning machines circled around to scan him with its blue light. He kept his centre of gravity low, though, poised to strike if the need arose.</p>
<p>Banner kept muttering technical babble whilst he worked. Something about biometric data. He took a blood sample, which Steve was reluctant to give but eventually conceded to, and scanned both of his irises and all of his fingerprints. When he was done, Banner stood behind a bank of holographic computer screens and scratched his head.</p>
<p>“Well, you’re definitely Steve Rogers,” he concluded.</p>
<p>“Good to know.” Steve’s confidence was returning to him in dribs and drabs; he was pleased to find that he still had the ability to sound snarky.</p>
<p>“Or at least a very good imitation. Any chance you could be a clone?”</p>
<p>“Not that I’m aware of.”</p>
<p>“No. Right. ‘Course not. The multiverse is a far more plausible theory, especially given Strange’s theory about the timelines,” Banner muttered to himself, just as Steve was beginning to believe that Banner <em>wasn’t </em>a threat.</p>
<p>He froze, rooted to the spot as anger broiled through him. “Strange?” he spat out. “What in god’s name are you doing working with him?” Steve reared up as tall and broad as he could make himself and glowered at Banner.</p>
<p>“Whoah, okay.” Banner’s hand came up in a placating gesture. “I’m guessing there’s some history between the two of you from your Earth?”</p>
<p>“Not from <em>my </em>Earth,” Steve spat. “He <em>stole </em>Bucky and me from my Earth, dragged us into a gamma hellworld, sent Bucky off to his death and manipulated me with the promise of rescuing him when… when…” Steve’s voice cracked and he suddenly felt dizzy and faint. The act of speaking it out loud finally made it all seem irreversibly real. Up until now, Steve realised, it had felt like an awful living nightmare, but he’d still been harbouring the hope of waking up. He was quickly learning that there was no waking up, only other nightmares to walk into.</p>
<p>“Steve?” Banner sounded very far away. The room spun sideways and Banner loomed towards him in a mismatch of proportions. “When was the last time you ate?”</p>
<p>Steve tried to remember, but he couldn’t. That was probably a bad sign. He didn’t answer, but then that was probably an answer in and of itself.</p>
<p>“When was the last time you slept?”</p>
<p>That was equally vague. A few days ago, perhaps? Certainly not since Bucky had died. Steve hadn’t had a moment’s rest from nightmares in which Bucky, missing his arm and racked with pain, screamed at Steve for failing to save him. No, Steve hadn’t let himself sleep in a while.</p>
<p>“Can’t,” he muttered. But despite the serum and his own determination, his body seemed to have other ideas. The stress of everything from the last few days had finally caught up with him, and without the adrenaline of worrying about <em>this </em>Bucky, Steve found himself completely devoid of energy.</p>
<p>“Come with me, Steve. You need to sleep. The rest of the questions can wait.”</p>
<p>Steve might have walked with Banner to a room, or he might simply have collapsed there and then. He only knew that he was pulled from another horribly visceral nightmare a few hours later. This time, he hadn’t been too late. The Red King had Bucky bound in his throne room, alive and struggling. Steve had tried to fight his way forward to free him, but he’d failed. The Red King had brought his fist down with a crushing blow, and Steve had just enough time to see fear and panic flash across Bucky’s face before he awoke with a jolt.</p>
<p>He sat up in a bed with sheets tangled around his legs and panted for breath, grasping at his hair and practically tearing it from his head as the images ebbed from his mind, leaving him spent and scared.</p>
<p>“Bucky,” Steve’s voice cracked in a sob. “I’m so sorry.” It took a moment for Steve to compose himself before he could crawl out of bed and into the small en suite bathroom. Steve couldn’t remember the last time he’d actually seen a proper bathroom. Doom, or Arcade, or whoever designed the Killiseum had been very dedicated to the gladiatorial aesthetic, right down to Roman-style baths and communal toilets. Steve stared at the sleek tiles of the welcoming walk-in shower for a full minute before he stripped and stepped inside it. He almost melted as the first spray of warm water hit him, throwing an arm against the tiles to steady himself. God, it felt better than anything had for a long time.</p>
<p>Steve let the water cascade around him, basking under the warmth that soon seeped right down into his bones, before he found the bottle of an all-in-one shampoo and shower gel concoction on a shallow shelf carved into the wall and began to scrub away every trace of the gamma hell world, scouring at his skin until it felt red and raw. Even then, he still didn’t feel clean. Although the water continued to stream hot, Steve forced himself to switch it off and dry himself off. He couldn’t waste any more time pampering himself, not when there were so many unanswered questions and so many things to be done.</p>
<p>After a little searching, Steve found a built-in wardrobe set so flush against the wall that he’d thought it was just a strange decorative panel to start with. Neat rows of dark blue, grey and crisp white active wear were hung up and folded inside, arranged in varying sizes. Steve pulled out a pair of grey tracksuit trousers and a white t-shirt, both of which were emblazoned with a discrete ‘A’, circled and crossed with an arrow. Steve was too distracted by the soft fabric and comforting stretch of the material to care. It had been so long since he’d worn anything other than the uncomfortable leather or coarse cloth of his clothes in the Killiseum. He pulled his long hair back up into a ponytail and tied it off with a scrap of leather like he was used to doing, and donned a pair of honest-to-god sneakers, the likes of which Steve hadn’t realised he’d missed so much.</p>
<p>The Hulk—Doctor Banner, Steve corrected himself—found Steve wandering the corridors as he tried to find his way back to the medical bay, and to Bucky. Banner refused to let Steve in to see Bucky, but he assured Steve that Bucky was on the mend.</p>
<p>“His vitals are all back to normal. Now he just needs to sleep it off,” Banner explained. “Leave him to his rest.”</p>
<p>Now that he’d slept and the horror wasn’t as fresh, Steve could see marked differences between Banner and any of the Hulks he’d encountered in the gamma world. His soft smile and kind eyes were the most remarkable difference, and the way he ushered Steve towards a communal kitchen was done with gentle, encouraging motions like he was taking pains not to appear intimidating. Thick scars that wrapped up his right arm, creeping up his neck from under the collar of his shirt spoke of battles, though, and Steve was once again left to wonder what on earth had happened on this world.</p>
<p>He followed Banner without complaint. As much as he ached to see for himself that Bucky was okay, he knew Banner was right, and, Steve forced himself to remember, this wasn’t <em>his </em>Bucky; it wasn’t someone he shared any history with. What right did he have to stand vigil by his bedside?</p>
<p>Banner showed Steve where the breakfast foods were stored in various cupboards along the wall and set some coffee going, letting Steve prepare his food himself. Gradually, as he buttered toast and as the smell of coffee began to fill the air, Steve’s distrust began to melt. He hadn’t forgotten what Banner had said yesterday about working with Strange, but he was willing not to jump to conclusions just yet. Things were clearly very different in this world; perhaps there was a simple explanation.</p>
<p>Steve took a seat at the head of a large dining table which was in the centre of the room, marking the halfway point between the kitchen and a large communal living room with a wide-screen TV mounted on the wall and floor-to-ceiling windows that looked out onto the expansive grounds of the compound. Banner set a mug of coffee in front of him and took a seat a little way down the table to give Steve some much needed space.</p>
<p>“The Steve from this Earth,” Steve asked after taking a bite of toast that tasted like heaven. “Where is he? Is he alive?”</p>
<p>“Yeah, he’s in DC.”</p>
<p>That surprised Steve a little, given Bucky’s shock at seeing him—although, now that he’d showered and changed, Steve realised that his disbelief might simply have been down to his appearance. The mirror in the en suite had shown him a haggard, scarred face that Steve had barely recognised himself; it would have been enough to shock anyone. He nodded and gulped down some coffee. “We need to call him. Tell him about Bucky, he’d want to be here.”</p>
<p>Banner looked uncomfortable and pulled an odd expression. “I’m not sure Barnes would agree with that.”</p>
<p>“What do you mean?” Steve demanded. In what universe would Bucky not want Steve by his side?</p>
<p>Banner held up a placating hand, which would have been more effective if it hadn’t been the size of a dinner plate, or green. “Just let Barnes get some rest. He can make the call when he wakes up.”</p>
<p>Begrudgingly, Steve agreed. He didn’t really have a choice. He tucked back into his toast instead, quickly demolishing the little stack he’d made. He glanced back towards the toaster, weighing up whether or not it would be rude to make himself some more, when Banner gave a soft laugh.</p>
<p>“Help yourself,” he instructed.</p>
<p>Only after Steve had eaten his way through an entire loaf of bread and half a jar of peanut butter did Banner fold his arms onto the table and lean slightly towards him. “Now, Steve, I need to ask you some questions, like how the hell did you get here?”</p>
<p>Steve arched an eyebrow, emboldened by the food, and drained his third cup of coffee before answering. “Actually, I was hoping you could tell me.”</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0011"><h2>11. III . i . ii</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Lots of ~comic book science~ in this section, please go with it 💙✨</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <strong>III.I.ii</strong>
</p>
<p>Bucky woke up with a throbbing headache. At first, he assumed he was hungover and cracked an eye, expecting to see the guest room in Sam’s sister’s house. Instead, he found himself in an unknown room with white walls and bland grey fittings. He jerked upright, wincing as the movement sent pain thudding through his temples. He squinted and let his eyes adjust to the soft light of a lamp by his bedside. There was a bottle of water set out for him which he downed gratefully, and then tried to work back through his last waking memories to figure out where he was. It came back in fits and starts, and—judging by the logo on the water bottle—he assumed this was the newly refurbished Avengers compound. That was good. He needed Banner to help him find Sam.</p>
<p>Bucky threw the covers off and staggered out of bed, keeping his eyes half-screwed shut to block out the pain radiating from his head. Zemo’s trigger word had really done a number on him. He staggered through to the adjacent bathroom, keeping the light off as he pissed for an age and then groped his way towards the sink. Soft light from the bedroom filtered through enough for Bucky to see his reflection. His eyes were bloodshot and, although someone had clearly tried to clean up the blood from his nose, it was still crusted and scabbed around his nostrils. There were no other marks on him from the fight, just the mostly-faded pinprick from an IV line in the crook of his elbow, which meant he’d been asleep for a while.</p>
<p>Bucky showered quickly and dressed in a pair of Avengers-branded sweatpants and a dark compression shirt which he found in the closet. There were pairs of sneakers lined up along the floor, but Bucky couldn’t be bothered with the hassle of lacing them, so he padded through the compound in his socks, trying to remember the blueprints and navigating towards where he hoped he’d find the communal kitchen and common area.</p>
<p>When he found them, Banner was sitting at the dining table frowning at his laptop and deep in a conversation with Sharon, and Bucky started when he saw Steve pacing in front of a large window. The <em>other </em>Steve, the one that looked almost Asgardian with his long hair, thick ropey muscles, and scars criss-crossing his face. He’d changed into an outfit similar to Bucky’s, dark blue sweats and a thin grey t-shirt that strained valiantly across his pecs and shoulders. For a moment, Bucky couldn’t tear his eyes away from him. It was so strange to see him looking so familiar and so alien all at once. Where had he come from? How long would he stay?</p>
<p>Bucky lost himself staring at the familiar sweep of Steve’s jaw and the swell of the Adam’s apple in his throat. His profile was identical, right down to the little bump on the bridge of his nose. Bucky stared until the sunlight streaming through the window made his eyes hurt and he was forced to look away. No one had heard him enter, so he coughed to announce his presence and stumbled to the sink to refill his water bottle.</p>
<p>“You’re awake!” Bucky recognised Steve’s voice and noted with a smile that Steve sounded relieved.</p>
<p>“How long was I out?” Bucky croaked back in response, his voice sounded faint from disuse.</p>
<p>“Going on thirty-six hours,” Sharon supplied.</p>
<p>“Fuck.” Bucky dragged a hand through his still-drying hair. No wonder he felt so groggy. “What’s the game plan?”</p>
<p>They looked at him blankly.</p>
<p>“To find Sam, what’s our plan?” He might have spent the last few days passed out, but surely, they must have been working hard? Finding Sam, figuring out what the hell that portal thing had been, and where this other Steve had come from, that was the priority, wasn’t it?</p>
<p>“We’re, um, working on it,” Banner said.</p>
<p>“Do you know where he is?”</p>
<p>“Not yet.”</p>
<p>“Do you know what happened?”</p>
<p>“Not yet.”</p>
<p>Bucky stared at the three of them, Steve in particular. It wasn’t like him to drag his feet. “Nothing? It’s been almost two days, you must have <em>something</em>?”</p>
<p>Banner looked reluctant to reply. “Nothing definitive.”</p>
<p>“It’s a working theory,” Sharon added.</p>
<p>“What is it?” Bucky slumped into a chair, feeling his pulse pumping through his temples with a painful pressure. Whatever they were so reluctant to say must be bad news.</p>
<p>“We’ve been tracking… glitches for the past couple of years. Ever since the blip,” Banner began. “The time skips, disappearing stars, people vanishing and appearing.” Banner gestured to Steve to illustrate his point. “What happened at Fort Meade was a particularly big…glitch.”</p>
<p>“I gathered that.” Bucky frowned at Banner. “What’s causing the glitches?” His mind might have been fried, but he wasn’t an idiot.</p>
<p>“When Thanos destroyed the infinity stones, he destroyed a fundamental building block of the universe,” Banner said slowly. “Without them…it looks like things are unravelling. We think,” he paused to drag a hand through his hair. “The universe may be collapsing in on itself and damaging the boundaries between parallel worlds and ours.”</p>
<p>Bucky was glad he’d decided to sit down. He stared at Banner for any sign that he was joking, but unfortunately, he looked deadly serious. Of course. The universe was collapsing. It sounded like a crazy plot from one of his space pulps, too far-fetched to be happening. After everything they’d been through to defeat Thanos and stop the universe from getting dusted, after all the effort they’d made to try and rebuild, to try and fight for justice…Bucky dropped his head into his hands. Of course, it was all going to be for nothing.</p>
<p>“Strange calls it the multiverse,” Banner continued, and Bucky glanced up, realising he’d lost track of the conversion. “It’s long been theorised, and our ability to time travel only proves that it’s real.”</p>
<p>“You’re from the future?” Bucky glanced at Steve.</p>
<p>“No.”</p>
<p>“No, an alternate Earth,” Banner explained. “One of potentially millions of alternate Earths.”</p>
<p>Bucky stared at Steve, who gave a small smile in response. Another Earth. Bucky glanced between the scars on Steve’s face and the fresher wounds still faintly marking his arms and wondered what sort of horrors he’d faced, if there had been a Bucky on his Earth and what might have happened to him.</p>
<p>“And Sam…?” Bucky tore his eyes from Steve and glanced back at Banner.</p>
<p>“Ended up on a different one, yeah.” Banner took off his glasses and pinched the bridge of his nose.</p>
<p>“How?”</p>
<p>“I’ve been tracking the glitches for months; each one follows an energy spike of a certain frequency. I think it must resonate with the borders of different worlds, creating a rip that opens a temporary portal between them.”</p>
<p>Bucky’s brain ached with the effort of following the conversation. He squinted through the pain and tried to work out how the pieces fit together. “Zemo’s electromagnetic pulse,” he surmised.</p>
<p>“Yeah, triggered a big one.”</p>
<p>“So, what do we do?”</p>
<p>“This is more Strange’s area of expertise. He’s looking into it, and we’ve sent word to Thor, Danvers, and the Guardians asking for help. Apparently, this is happening everywhere.”</p>
<p>Bucky gripped his water bottle tightly with his flesh hand, watching his knuckles turn white with the pressure. He hated feeling useless.</p>
<p>“Best we can do is monitor future energy spikes and try to put together a database of people affected. I’m trying to write an algorithm to help us find them.”</p>
<p>It didn’t feel like enough, but Bucky had to agree that he didn’t see what else they could do.</p>
<p>“Alright. I’m going to lie down. Let me know if I can do anything to help, and don’t—” he wagged a finger at Steve, “don’t disappear before I wake up. I have some questions.” His head ached something fierce, and he figured the best thing to do was go back to bed and try to sleep it off. That was until when he noticed that Sharon and Banner were both giving him an odd, pained expression. There couldn’t be worse news, could there? They looked like they were about to tell him someone had died and Bucky’s heart pounded in his chest. What else could have happened? Steve, his Steve, wasn’t ill, was he? He hadn’t… he wasn’t…?</p>
<p>“Ross is dead,” Sharon said in a grave tone. “His injuries were more extensive than we realised, and he died whilst we were taking him into custody.”</p>
<p>“Oh?” Bucky didn’t see how that was such a great loss. Good riddance, right?</p>
<p>“President Ellis wants a full inquest into his death, including your involvement in it. You’ve been placed under house arrest.”</p>
<p>Bucky clenched his jaw. Of course he had. “Do I need a lawyer?”</p>
<p>“You have one. Bernie Rosenthal. She’s the one who made the case for your pardon during the blip,” Sharon informed him.</p>
<p>“What? Why?”</p>
<p>“Because she’s a good person. And a better lawyer. She’ll get this straightened out, but for now…” Sharon held out a black ankle band. “I’m really sorry.”</p>
<p>“Does the CIA often get involved in house arrests?” Bucky couldn’t help but snark.</p>
<p>“It does when it’s a matter of national security,” she replied. “It does when it’s a friend.” She handed Bucky the anklet. “You’ll have full run of the compound and the grounds. That’s a ten-mile perimeter; a decent distance even for a super soldier. We thought this would be better than your broom cupboard in Brooklyn.”</p>
<p>Bucky nodded and dutifully clipped the band around his ankle.</p>
<p>“I know you’ll be able to hack it easily, but,” she hesitated. “I think it’ll be best for everyone if you don’t tamper with it.”</p>
<p>Bucky mimed crossing his heart.</p>
<p>“Thanks. I’ll be back in a few days to check in on you. Bernie said she’ll give you a few days to recover before talking to you, but I’ll bring her with me so she can take your statement and answer any questions you may have. Until then, I’d advise you not to talk to anyone else about it.”</p>
<p>“What about Sam? What’s the official story about him?”</p>
<p>“We were honest. Officially, he’s MIA and pending investigation for multiple parole violations when he gets back. Ellis doesn’t want to believe there was a portal, but Walker’s vouching for him, and plenty of other agents saw it happen. Don’t worry, we’ve got plenty of lawyers working on his case, too.”</p>
<p>“Good.” Bucky nodded.</p>
<p>Sharon stood up to leave, pausing to place a comforting hand on his shoulder, before she did. “And get some rest, Barnes. You look like shit.”</p>
<p>Bucky flexed his ankle up and down and rolled it in a circle, testing the pinch of the anklet, which had started blinking with a little green light. Being arrested would have terrified him once, but after seeing what house arrest had meant for Sam, Bucky wasn’t worried. If nothing else, it would give him an excuse to rest for a while. His brain was still scrambled, and it would take a while to heal properly.</p>
<p>“<em>Now</em> I’m going back to bed.” He moved to ease himself out of the chair, but Banner held out a hand to stop him.</p>
<p>Bucky lowered himself back into the chair and frowned. Surely not <em>more </em>bad news?</p>
<p>“Steve, can you give us a moment?”</p>
<p>Steve hadn’t moved from his spot by the window. The soft afternoon light shone through his hair, giving him a halo of spun gold. His hands were balled into fists by his side and his face was twisted into a frown, but when Banner spoke to him, he nodded and gave Bucky another one of those sad half-smiles. “Of course. I’ll be in the grounds. It’s good to see you up and about, Bucky.”</p>
<p>Bucky smiled back at Steve as he passed, fighting the urge to reach out and brush hands. He had to remind himself that this wasn’t his Steve.</p>
<p>“Is he really Steve Rogers?” Bucky asked as soon as the door closed in Steve’s wake.</p>
<p>“Yeah, it’s him. I’ve run every DNA and biometric test I can; it’s definitely a version of him. There was a significantly higher concentration of gamma radiation in his blood than our Steve’s baseline results, but I can’t work out if that’s normal for him or a result of travelling here.”</p>
<p>“Can’t you ask him?”</p>
<p>Banner sat back in his chair and dragged a hand through his hair. “He’s scared of me.” He shrugged and curled in on himself, ever so slightly.</p>
<p>“Well, you are a seven-foot-tall green monster,” Bucky teased. “You don’t see that everyday. Maybe they didn’t have a Hulk where he came from?”</p>
<p>“Nah, I think maybe they did. That much gamma in him? But I, uh, I think it’d be best if you talked to him. I need to know as much as possible about his Earth and what happened on his end of the portal. He’ll feel more comfortable talking to you. He’s clammed up every time I’ve tried to ask him about it already.”</p>
<p>“I can try,” Bucky promised. He had plenty of questions he wanted to ask this other Steve; more than anything, he was just desperate to have a conversation with Steve again—one who hadn’t left him high and dry and heartbroken.</p>
<p>“Thank you. I’d like to get some scans of your brain, too, to make sure there’s no long-term damage. As a matter of urgency. From Sharon’s description it sounds like Zemo tried to trigger an aneurism. If there’re any clots or damage…” Banner left the threat hanging unsaid.</p>
<p>It was necessary, Bucky knew, so he let Banner walk him down to the medical wing, where he ground his teeth and persevered through the scans. He still hated medical procedures, and even though he trusted Banner not to hurt him, it didn’t make it any easier to sit in a high-backed chair while the scanner spun around his head in a slow 360° arc. He was white-knuckled and breathing shallowly by the time Banner cheerfully told him that they were all finished.</p>
<p>Bucky high-tailed it from the room, finding himself outside the compound as the dusk began to gather. He let his feet take him across the lawn that was just beginning to grow damp with dew and stopped by a bench overlooking the water, not noticing that Steve was already sitting there until he spoke up.</p>
<p>“Are you alright?” Steve’s voice was comforting to hear, even if it was a different Steve, maybe <em>because</em> it was a different Steve.</p>
<p>Bucky dropped down onto the bench beside him. He tipped his head back to the open expanse of sky and took deep, controlled breaths to calm his heart rate.</p>
<p>“I will be,” he answered honestly. Once they got Sam back. Once they figured out a way to stop the universe from unravelling. Bucky brought his head back to level and turned to give Steve a weak smile.</p>
<p>The similarities were as vast as the differences between this Steve and the one that Bucky had known and loved. It could so easily have been Steve visiting Wakanda fresh from a mission gone wrong, hair a little longer, face a little more scarred and seemingly etched into a permanent scowl. But it wasn’t. Bucky’s Steve was old and in DC, and had only just finally decided to stop sitting idly by as the country fell into chaos and ruin. Anger sparked in his chest and he took a deep breath. He had to make a conscious effort to remember that although they shared a name and DNA, although their mannerisms were practically the same, that didn’t mean their experiences or their feelings were. It wasn’t fair on this Steve for Bucky to let his own feelings get confused.</p>
<p>“This must be very strange for you,” Bucky said after a spell.</p>
<p>“What?”</p>
<p>“All this.” Bucky gestured vaguely to the compound behind them. Steve’s frown deepened, pinching his eyebrows together and pursing his lips like he did when he was confused. “What was your Earth like?”</p>
<p>“Well,” Steve sighed and glanced around, squinting slightly as he looked out into the middle distance. “Much like this, I suppose.”</p>
<p>Perhaps this Steve had gone into the ice in his world and wound up in the future, too, or perhaps he was from a different time altogether. Who knew how the ‘multiverse’ worked?</p>
<p>“What you were wearing when you came through the portal, was that the fashion?” Bucky asked.</p>
<p>“Not exactly.”</p>
<p>“Costume party?” Bucky teased with a smirk. Steve shook his head, looking unexpectedly sad.</p>
<p>“I was taken from my Earth a long time ago. I spent the last few years in a war-torn place plagued by gamma radiation that had corrupted and distorted everything. I was forced to fight to the death in a gladiatorial arena for <em>entertainment</em>.” He practically growled the world. Bucky stared at Steve, seeing the scars and his toughened build in a new light.</p>
<p>“Fuck. That must have been hell.” Steve had never done well at following orders, trying to get him to fight for anything other than what he believed in was damn near impossible. Taking that agency away from him was just about the worst thing you could do.</p>
<p>“It was worse when they took Bucky.”</p>
<p>Other than that.</p>
<p>“I’m so sorry.” Bucky reached out to clasp Steve’s shoulder, giving it a gentle, and hopefully comforting, squeeze. Steve dipped his head and shivered. Bucky pulled his hand back instantly, fearing his touch had caused it, but Steve shook his head, and gave Bucky another heartbreakingly sad smile.</p>
<p>“It’s just the cold,” he said, but Bucky didn’t believe him. Steve had always been a terrible liar.</p>
<p>They watched the sky fade from a dusty pink to a flat grey, neither of them keen to break the silence, until Bucky’s exhaustion caught up with him and he visibly began to flag.</p>
<p>“Get some sleep, Bucky. The serum always tires me out when it’s trying to heal me.”</p>
<p>“Yeah, especially when you have the shoddy knock-off version like I do,” Bucky huffed a laugh.</p>
<p>Steve looked confused, but Bucky shook his head; that conversation could wait until later. Steve didn’t press the matter, ushering Bucky back inside and walking him along the dull white and grey corridors towards Bucky’s room. They lingered outside his door, and Steve reached for Bucky’s shoulder before letting his hand slide up to cup the back of his head. Steve’s fingers brushed through the short strands of hair at the nape of Bucky’s neck in a way that made Bucky wish he still had shoulder-length hair. Gradually Steve’s frown softened into something that almost resembled a smile.</p>
<p>“Sleep well,” he told Bucky. And then he was gone, disappearing down the corridor with a purposeful stride, leaving Bucky with a hopelessly tangled mess of emotions.</p>
<p>As Bucky watched Steve’s retreating back, his skin buzzed with the echo of Steve’s touch. He recalled the warm embrace Steve had given him when he’d first come through the portal, and yearned to be held like that again. It had been almost two years since his Steve’s last peaceful visit to Wakanda, almost two years since Bucky had last been held or kissed by anyone, and he hadn’t quite realised how much he ached for that touch until now. Bucky almost called out to Steve to ask him to come back, to ask him to stay, but he couldn’t.</p>
<p>He’d spent the better part of two years hating Steve and pretending he didn’t exist. Those feelings wouldn’t just melt away, even if Bucky knew that this Steve was blameless in that particular betrayal. Right then, Bucky didn’t trust Steve as far as he could throw him. Who knew how things stood between this Steve and the Bucky from his Earth? Steve said Bucky had been taken from him, but he hadn’t elaborated more than that. Bucky hadn’t forgotten the last proper conversation with his Steve, where he blamed losing Bucky one too many times for the complete and utter betrayal of his character and the morals Bucky had once thought infallible.</p>
<p>Bucky watched until the other Steve disappeared from sight before slinking into the bland guest room, and curling up on a bed that had never felt so empty.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0012"><h2>12. III . i . iii</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <strong>III.I.iii</strong>
</p>
<p>
  <em>Bucky</em>
</p>
<p>Bucky’s head was a mess and he slept restlessly, tossing and turning as his confused thoughts cycled over and over through his brain. His lack of sleep only compounded the headache he’d suffered the day before, and he woke in an irritable mood. A mood which was only exacerbated when Banner banished him from the lab.</p>
<p>“Let me help. I can be useful,” Bucky insisted.</p>
<p>Banner barely glanced up from his holographic screens to wave Bucky off, telling him to rest. “Banner, please. I need to do <em>something</em>,” he pleaded. He’d never been good at feeling powerless.</p>
<p>“If you want to help, talk to Steve. I need to know what he knows—about his world and how he got here,” Banner reminded him.</p>
<p>Bucky nodded slowly and dragged himself from Banner’s lab. He could talk to Steve. He could find out about his world and muster the courage to find out exactly how things stood between him and his Bucky. At least, he could have if he had been able to find the man. He tramped through the empty corridors of the Avengers compound, peering into unused rooms without finding hide nor hair of him.</p>
<p>With the lingering uncertainty over the Accords and President Ellis’ new inquiry into the clusterfuck of Ross, Weapons Plus, and Bradley, the Avengers were still indefinitely disbanded. Banner was the only one permanently stationed at the compound. Even the medical staff had only been brought in temporarily from a nearby hospital that received lots of funding from Stark Industries and had an unofficial agreement to provide support when required. It was eerie, tracing his steps through the sprawl of identical, muted grey corridors. Bucky had never spent any time at the compound before it had been bombed, and there was something unnerving about walking through deserted halls and corridors that had all been freshly rebuilt and then left untouched and unused.</p>
<p>Eventually, he stopped looking for Steve and retreated to the common area, slumping onto the large sectional sofa in front of the widescreen TV. He would have preferred to read rather than watch anything, but his books and belongings were all either back in Brooklyn or at Sam's sister’s house. He didn't even have a tablet or his phone to while away his boredom. He felt listless, useless, and itching out of his skin to find Sam. He couldn’t help but wonder if this was how Steve had felt during the blip. Had he endured five years of feeling this useless and guilty?</p>
<p>The grey October skies were overcast and it soon began to rain, a light pitter-patter against the windows that only made his mood more miserable. It was hard not to give into his misery, hard to hold onto hope in a world that just seemed to get more and more unbearable with every turn; but Bucky knew he couldn’t give way to that line of thinking. He wouldn’t afford to lose himself like Steve had, he had to keep fighting—for Sam’s sake. For this new Steve. For everyone in the multiverse who’s lives appeared to be at stake.</p>
<p>Bucky was halfway through watching an episode of Star Trek that he'd seen before, but couldn't be bothered changing, when some movement through the window caught his eye. He glanced outside to see Steve jogging back towards the compound after a clearly exhausting (and muddy) run. Bucky tracked Steve as he passed the window, giving him a wave, which Steve returned along with another of his frowned half-smiles. He appeared in the common area moments later, panting to catch his breath and taking a long drink of water in the kitchen.</p>
<p>"Hey," Steve greeted Bucky. He'd pulled his hair back and braided it for his run, though the shorter strands of his bangs still fell into his eyes and stuck to his forehead, slick with sweat and rain. "You look better today."</p>
<p>Bucky didn’t feel better, but he knew saying so would sound petulant so he stayed quiet, summoning a smile instead. Steve drained one glass of water and filled it again. He hovered in the kitchen for a moment, taking a long look at Bucky, before raising his glass of water in a salute and heading for the door.</p>
<p>“Where are you going?”</p>
<p>Steve faltered; he glanced between Bucky and the door and frowned. Bucky was reminded, again, that this Steve was practically a stranger; he may have looked familiar, but they did know each other, there was no friendship or easy trust built between them. This Steve wouldn’t know from just a look that Bucky wordlessly wanted him to stay, or if he did, he probably wouldn’t act on it; Steve had always been the shy one of the two. It had always been down to Bucky to pry any emotional intimacy from him.</p>
<p>“Stay, please?” Bucky asked. Even ignoring all of the questions he had for Steve, Bucky was literally going to lose his mind if he had to spend one more minute on his own.</p>
<p>Steve looked torn for a second before nodding. “Let me take a shower, I’ll be back.”</p>
<p>Bucky burrowed deeper into the sofa cushions, feeling pathetic that he had nothing else to do but wait for Steve to come back. He couldn’t even use his recovery as justification for moping around; his head still ached, but Banner’s scans from yesterday showed there would be no lasting damage—nothing that the serum couldn’t heal, at any rate. He hugged a throw pillow to his chest and let the TV auto-play the next episode.</p>
<p>Steve still looked hesitant when he returned, so Bucky used his feet to tap the sofa cushion next to him and gave him an encouraging smile. Steve looked breath-taking, wearing another tightly-fitted compression top with his hair long and loose, still damp from the shower and splayed around his broad shoulders, curling ever so slightly at the ends. Bucky wished desperately to run his fingers through it. He wished more than anything for <em>his </em>Steve back so they could curl up together on the sofa and he could rest his head on Steve’s chest.</p>
<p>“Hot showers at the touch of a button, what a luxury,” Steve sighed and sagged into the sofa cushion next to Bucky’s curled legs. “I think I’m finally starting to get rid of the stench from that planet.”</p>
<p>“You smell fine.” Bucky smiled, gently nudging Steve with his foot. But Bucky knew what he meant. After weeks without showering, the dirt began to feel ingrained, like you’d never truly be clean again; it was one the things he’d hated most about the war.</p>
<p>“What are you watching?”</p>
<p>“I’m not really watching it, put whatever you want on.” Bucky offered Steve the remote.</p>
<p>“No, this is fine.”</p>
<p>They finished the episode and let another start. At some point Steve shifted closer and let his fingers play idly with the hem on Bucky’s sweatpants. It was comforting and familiar, so Bucky didn’t stop him. After a while, he even let his legs stretch out into Steve’s lap, testing the waters. It made Steve smile, though there was a deep sadness that continued to lurk behind his expression.</p>
<p>“Tell me about your home?” Bucky prompted after a while.</p>
<p>Steve’s expression softened. He slipped his fingers under the hem of Bucky’s sweats and started tracing soft circles into Bucky’s bare ankle in a way that was so familiar. His touch sent a warmth flooding through Bucky that he didn’t even know he had been craving. Steve continued to trace patterns as he told Bucky all about his childhood, the way he and his Bucky couldn’t seem to stay out of trouble. When he started talking about the war, his face hardened again, scowling as he told Bucky about how they’d watched tensions build and how scared they were when the fighting finally came to New York. He told Bucky all about the Sam Wilson from his world, America’s first super soldier, spear-heading the Falcon Unit, and how he’d inspired them to sign up for the programme themselves. He spoke about the shield, about Bucky’s injury, and how delighted he’d been with his upgraded, cybernetic arm.</p>
<p>“Upgraded?” Bucky scoffed.</p>
<p>“Yeah, why? What happened to yours?” Steve looked concerned.</p>
<p><em>It was ripped off as I fell 200 feet from a train, and the rest was amputated by a mad scientist whilst I was awake, before they drilled metal rods and screws into my spine to attach a new metal monstrosity</em>, Bucky wanted to say, but he didn’t want to see the pity that it would bring to Steve’s eyes. He didn’t want this Steve to pity him.</p>
<p>“Traumatic amputation when I fell off a train,” he chose to say instead.</p>
<p>“Oh, <em>Buck</em>.” Steve’s eyes widened with pity anyway.</p>
<p>Bucky shrugged. It was hardly the worst thing that had happened to him.</p>
<p>“May I?” Steve gestured to Bucky’s arm.</p>
<p>Bucky held it out for Steve to run his fingers over, his touch soft and reverent.</p>
<p>“My Bucky’s arm was silver.”</p>
<p>“Mine was, for a while,” Bucky replied, shivering as Steve’s fingers ran lightly over the grooves of gold inlaid against the black vibranium. “This <em>was </em>an upgrade.”</p>
<p>“Does it hurt?”</p>
<p>“Not anymore.”</p>
<p>Steve placed his hand palm to palm with Bucky’s and then interlaced their fingers. He fell silent again, lost in his own thoughts.</p>
<p>“Tell me more about your Bucky?” Bucky couldn’t keep his curiosity at bay. “You said he was…taken? What happened to him?” He almost didn’t want to ask, but he had to know.</p>
<p>“He was killed,” Steve said simply, but Bucky didn’t miss the crack in his voice.</p>
<p>“I’m sorry.”</p>
<p>“Me too.” Steve’s eyes glistened with the threat of tears.</p>
<p>“What was he like?”</p>
<p>“He was smart. And brave. And kind. He was my warbound.” Steve gave another small smile, but his brow was still creased with pain and sadness.</p>
<p>“Warbound?” Bucky mused; for some reason the word made him think of matelotage, a form of marriage between the pirates of old. “That almost sounds like you were married.”</p>
<p>“We were in all the ways that counted. We would have been officially, if it had been allowed.”</p>
<p>Bucky fixated on Steve’s face, watching his smile turn almost tender as he brushed his thumb across the metal plates of Bucky’s hand. Bucky and his Steve had never even talked about marriage; it had never felt like an option. To hear Steve speak of it so easily, so obviously, sent a pang of longing through Bucky’s chest.</p>
<p>“The super soldier program forbade it,” Steve explained. “They wanted us single, unattached. The idea was that you’d fight harder if you had nothing to lose. Of course, that’s not true. I always fought harder so that I didn’t lose Bucky. We had a helluva time convincing them we weren’t together when we initially signed up.”</p>
<p>“But that wasn’t a problem? Outside of the program?” Bucky asked. “Two men getting married.”</p>
<p>“No?”</p>
<p>Bucky huffed. “I’m starting to like the sound of your Earth better. It was illegal for me and my Steve to even be together. Not now, not recently. But back when we were young, in the thirties and forties, we couldn’t even hold hands in public without fear of being arrested.”</p>
<p>“The thirties? You mean the <em>nineteen-thirties</em>?” Steve asked, eyebrows quirking. “When were you born?”</p>
<p>“1917. You?”</p>
<p>“1988.”</p>
<p>“So, you <em>are </em>from the future.” Bucky gave a hollow laugh.</p>
<p>Steve gave Bucky a penetrating stare, searching his face—for what, Bucky didn’t know. “You look good for 107,” he said eventually.</p>
<p>“Thanks.” Bucky exhaled, still trapped under Steve’s gaze.</p>
<p>The TV show rolled into the next episode without either of them paying the slightest bit of attention; they simply couldn’t tear their eyes away from each other. Bucky felt his pulse quicken and the air grew charged between them. It was like old times, sitting side by side, Bucky’s legs thrown over Steve’s lap, neither of them quite brave enough to make the first move.</p>
<p>Steve shifted slightly, keeping his eyes fixed on Bucky’s. It would have been so easy for Bucky to reach up and brush his fingers through Steve’s hair, to pull him close, to kiss him. Steve’s scowl slowly melted by degrees into a look of desperate desire that Bucky was pretty sure matched his own. Bucky didn’t know how to feel about any of this. They were both here, both grieving for versions of each other that they’d lost. Deep down, Bucky knew it was wrong to think of this Steve as a replacement, it would be wrong to make a move. But he missed Steve so much, and here he was, a brilliant shining example of everything he’d lost, staring at him with such love in his eyes. It might be a different Steve, but it was still <em>Steve</em>. What was one kiss?</p>
<p>Steve inched closer; the same thoughts seemed to be flashing though his mind, and Bucky’s breathing hitched in anticipation. But then Steve pulled away. He scrambled backwards on the sofa, looking scared and startled. Bucky reached to coax him back, but Steve held up a hand to warn him back, dragging the other through his hair and exhaling slowly.</p>
<p>“Sorry. I—” Steve shook his head. “I can’t. You’re not him, it’s not fair of me.”</p>
<p>“Steve, it’s okay,” Bucky tried to tell him, but Steve shook his head and screwed his eyes closed.</p>
<p>“No. It’s not.” He bolted from the room, leaving Bucky to slump helplessly back against the sofa.</p>
<hr/>
<p>
  <em>Steve</em>
</p>
<p>Steve bolted from the room, not sure how to process any of what had happened or what was happening now. Since he’d been pulled through the portal and ended up on yet another alien world, nothing had made sense. It didn’t matter that this Earth seemed similar to his home world; in many ways, the similarities just served to make it all seem weirder than the gamma world had been. At least there, in the Killiseum, Steve had been able to keep his thoughts straight; there, he’d always known he was far from home. Here, everything was just slightly off, like seeing a reproduction of an old painting that hadn’t quite got the colours or the composition right.</p>
<p>Steve had gleaned that the year was 2024, October 19th, to be precise. Steve had been pulled from his earth during the Battle of Brooklyn, October 2nd, 2019, which meant—if time tracked the same here as it did back home—that he’d been trapped on the gamma world for five years. Five years of fighting in the Killiseum. He knew they’d lost track of time, he knew they’d been there longer than a year, but it was still a shock to learn they’d suffered five years of senseless killing. Five years of that hell, endured only with the help of Bucky’s relentless optimism. For what? Bucky was dead. Steve was trapped here, and who knew what would happen to Devil? What would happen to all the other prisoners Doom and Strange had pulled from across the multiverse, what was to stop them from kidnapping more?</p>
<p>Banner had questioned Steve relentlessly about his world whilst they waited for Bucky to come around. Steve had tried to answer as honestly as he could, but the questions got grating and it was all too difficult to talk about. In turn, Banner had tried to answer some of Steve’s questions, but too many of his answers had boiled down to ‘ask Bucky,’ and Steve wasn’t sure he could do that. He couldn’t help but look into this Bucky’s face and see the resemblance it bore. It felt like a chisel had been taken to his heart, chipping away at it a little more every time he looked at Bucky, every time he smiled back. It was Bucky, and yet it wasn’t. Steve’s heart was full of fresh grief and he longed for Bucky, yearned for him with every fibre of his being. It felt almost cruel to be faced with this living, breathing reminder of everything he’d lost.</p>
<p>It wasn’t okay, there was nothing okay about this situation. It wasn’t fair on either version of Bucky for Steve to conflate the two.</p>
<p>Fortunately, the complex was large and sprawling, with plenty of space to hide himself away. If Steve begged a tablet off Banner and holed himself up in a far wing of the compound to read up on the history of this Earth—taking himself as far away from this Bucky as possible—then, what of it? He didn’t let himself read up on this Earth’s Bucky and Steve; he didn’t want that reminder. Instead, he read about the ‘blip’ and about the aliens that had attacked New York through a portal in 2012. He stayed away until after dark, and it wasn’t until he felt certain that the common room would be empty, that he dared to head back in search of food. Unfortunately, Banner seemed to keep erratic and unpredictable hours and Steve found him blending up a smoothie that looked like it was made of grass.</p>
<p>Steve hovered in the doorway. He wasn’t really in the mood for company, but there was only so far he could push his body’s metabolism, and after going for days (maybe weeks? Steve still wasn’t sure how long it had been since he’d set off for the Mud Kingdom) without food, Steve needed to restock his energy reserves.</p>
<p>“We ordered Thai food,” Banner announced before Steve could flee again. “Saved some for you in the fridge.” He nodded over his shoulder and set the blender running to churn up the grass into a very unpalatable-looking green sludge.</p>
<p>“Thanks.” Steve crossed behind him and opened up the heavy fridge door to find lots of clear plastic boxes stacked inside. He shifted through them, trying to recognise what they were without labels. It had been so long since he’d eaten anything like that – but in the end, Steve decided he didn’t care. He threw a selection into the microwave and blasted it on high before shovelling the spicy noodles and sticky rice into his mouth. It tasted so much better than anything he’d eaten in the last five years. He actually moaned with how good it was, and Banner laughed at him.</p>
<p>Steve flushed.</p>
<p>“There’s plenty more,” Banner assured him. “Barnes ordered enough to feed an army.”</p>
<p>Steve just nodded.</p>
<p>“Or two super soldiers and a Hulk, anyway,” Banner continued with a soft smile. He drained one glass of sludge and refilled his flask, popping a lid on top. Steve tried to ignore him, focusing on eating as quickly as he could so he could get out of there and return to hiding in his room. But Banner came and sat down next to him.</p>
<p>Steve glanced up, still wary of Banner even if he’d proven himself not to be a threat over the last couple of days.</p>
<p>“Barnes told me about the world you were pulled from, the…killiseum?”</p>
<p>Steve stilled, leaving his fork hovering in mid-air. He really didn’t want to talk about this now. So far, he’d managed not to relay too many details to Banner, giving evasive answers and focusing on the portals rather than the worlds he’d lived on. He wasn’t sure how kindly Banner would take to the idea of gamma ‘corrupting’ everything.</p>
<p>“I’m sorry you had to endure that. I know a little of what that’s like—I don’t remember much,” he admitted. Steve frowned. “But I’ve been told I went through something similar.”</p>
<p>“I don’t understand.”</p>
<p>Banner gave another careworn smile and seemed to soften as he explained that before he ‘settled,’ he used to have a Jekyll and Hyde relationship with the Hulk, that he barely remembered anything his body did when the Hulk had the wheel. Steve listened, appetite gone as Banner described the rage and chaos that overwhelmed him during the transformations; it was the same rage and chaos that had surrounded Steve on the gamma world, the same rage and chaos he’d nearly succumbed to when he slaughtered The Red King and Doc Green.</p>
<p>“I wound up on Sakaar,” Banner said. “The trash dump of the universe, surrounded by cosmic gateways, ruled by the Grandmaster. He didn’t steal people—like you were stolen—but he had a similar idea for keeping order and venting the bloodlust of his citizens,” Banner explained. “Time moved strangely on that planet. I was gone from Earth for two years, but who knows how long I actually spent there, fighting in his Grand Arena. So—I know a little of what it’s like. A little of the rage you feel, Steve—of being forced to kill for sport. I don’t remember it, but sometimes I wish I did. Otherwise I’m left to imagine… what horrors…” He trailed off and shook his head. “I know you don’t trust me. Maybe you’re right not to. But we’re running low on resources at the moment and I could really use your help. We don’t know what we’re dealing with and—so far—you’re the only person we know who’s survived cross-universal travel.”</p>
<p>“I’ll help where I can,” Steve promised, not sure how to respond to anything else Banner had shared.</p>
<p>“That means working with Strange as well. This is his area of expertise far more than it is mine.”</p>
<p>Steve clenched his jaw at the mention of Strange’s name.</p>
<p>“If that’s going to be a problem, I need to know before I invite him into the lab.”</p>
<p>Steve felt a scowl clouding his face, but he forced himself to think rationally. This Doctor Strange wasn’t responsible for Bucky’s death. It would be unfair to judge him for the crimes his counterpart had committed. Gamma corrupted everything, maybe it had corrupted that version of Strange, as well. Steve had to believe that, and his natural inclination to trust people and see the good in everyone was what allowed him to nod his head.</p>
<p>“I can’t promise to like it,” he ground out through clenched teeth. “But I won’t try to kill him without provocation.” It was the best Steve could offer.</p>
<p>Banner sighed, but he seemed to realise the gravity of what he was asking for. “I guess that’ll do. I’ll ask him to stop by tomorrow afternoon.”</p>
<p>With that, Banner left Steve to his thoughts. Steve pushed the remains of his food around his plate, but as much as he knew he should eat, he couldn’t muster up an appetite. In the end, he gave it up as a lost cause and scraped what was left on his plate into the bin, packing up the rest of the leftovers back into the fridge and washing his plate manually, even though there was a dishwasher tucked under the cabinet beside the sink. Steve had always liked doing the dishes, both his ma and Bucky had preferred to dry, but Steve had never minded plunging his hands into the warm, soapy water, finding it almost meditative to scrub the plates clean. After he’d stacked his plate and the empty take-out containers by the sink to dry, Steve gave the countertops and table a wipe down. He set all of the chairs back neatly under the table and tidied up the cushions on the sofa before switching off the light and heading to bed. There was always something soothing about tidying up his physical surroundings when he couldn’t untangle the mess of his mind. Bucky used to tease him for being fussy and fastidious, but Steve missed that teasing now.</p>
<p>He pulled the sheets up over his shoulders and tried to settle on the impossibly comfortable bed. But it was difficult to fall asleep without the soothing snoring from Devil that had been his nightly soundtrack for so long. He did eventually succumb to sleep, but it was fitful and shot through with troubling images of Bucky and Devil and the war he’d left raging in his own New York.</p>
<p>*✪･ﾟ⍟*✪*⍟ﾟ･✪*</p>
<p>Rising early to train had been drilled and shocked into Steve so strictly in the Killiseum that he was as powerless to override those instincts as he was to halt the rising of the sun. Steve might have wanted to lie in bed a little longer in search of better rest, but at 6am he found himself resolutely awake, and he shuffled down to the training room where he made a valiant effort to take down the reinforced punching bags until the sun began to poke above the trees that surrounded the compound and flooded through the windows. He pushed his sweat-slicked bangs back from his face and trudged through to the common room. Banner was already there, but he was absorbed in a phone call with Agent 13 that took all of his attention and, other than giving him a distracted wave, he left Steve to potter around undisturbed.</p>
<p>Steve couldn’t help but eavesdrop on the phone call; it wasn’t like he could turn his enhanced hearing off. Agent 13 was clearly scrambling to try and control the situation sweeping through the outside world, and Steve got the distinct impression that outside of their little bubble in the compound, the world was falling apart at the seams. Steve couldn’t do anything to help with the political landscape—as much as he might have been suited to it, Sharon and Banner had both decided that it was best if they kept Steve’s presence on this earth a secret for now and Steve had agreed—but he could try and help Banner with whatever he was tackling in the lab. Before he could face the prospect of working with Strange, though, Steve needed to burn off more steam. Lots more steam.</p>
<p>He limited himself to lapping the compound at first, making note of the entrances and exits and the quickest routes between them before he ventured out into the sprawling countryside of upstate New York beyond. They’d done training drills in the equivalent countryside of his own Earth with the Super Soldier Units during the war, and Steve knew the lay of the land well. High Command had been based in a very similar spot to the Avengers compound, and Steve wasn’t sure that was a coincidence. There were all sorts of strange parallels between this world and his own, echoes and patterns that almost matched.</p>
<p>When his legs began to ache and his mind finally felt calmer, Steve headed back to the compound, padding straight through to the kitchen to fill up a glass of cool water, still marvelling that it was available on tap. It was only after he twisted round to lean back against the counter and catch his breath that he noticed Bucky was lying stretched across the sofa, holding a tablet up over his head, using the untiring strength of his metal arm to hold it in place. He looked disgruntled.</p>
<p>“Everything okay?” Steve asked. Part of him wanted to rush to Bucky’s side, sweep that frown from his face with a kiss to the temple, but Steve knew he couldn’t. He wouldn’t let himself get as close as he had before, he couldn’t let himself cross that line and blur Bucky’s identity again.</p>
<p>Bucky glanced up, looking almost surprised that Steve was addressing him, until his face settled back into a grumpy frown. “Fine.”</p>
<p>“If you’re sure.” Steve recognised a dismissal when he heard one. He grabbed his glass and headed back to his quarters to shower and brace himself for a face-to-face meeting with Doctor Strange.</p>
<p>*✪･ﾟ⍟*✪*⍟ﾟ･✪*</p>
<p>All things considered, it didn’t go as badly as Steve had been expecting. Strange was arrogant and pompous but undeniably clever, and he clearly knew a lot about the ‘infinity stones’ that Banner and Strange were convinced had something to do with the ‘glitches’ rippling through the universe. As much as Steve personally disliked the man, he couldn’t deny that they needed his help to solve this mess. He put his own misgivings aside and they managed to fall into a workable routine.</p>
<p>Whilst Banner and Strange discussed scientific theories that Steve struggled to properly name—let alone understand—and held holographic video conferences with a talking racoon, the literal God of Thunder, and an intimidating Captain Danvers to discuss the effects the glitches were having elsewhere in the cosmos, Steve worked to compile a database of individuals whose disappearances coincided with energy spikes that indicated a glitch. He worked diligently, doing what he could to help, distracting himself with data entry, and converting profiles of the missing people into hard numbers that Banner’s algorithm could supposedly search through the multiverse to find. It wasn’t Steve’s forte; his skill had always lain in strategy and action, not the research and data extraction that could make their plans possible beforehand, but was he pleased to be helping.</p>
<p>Sometimes progress felt infinitely slow, and when Sam’s mother, Darlene, paid them a visit to demand answers about what had happened to her son, Steve wished they had more information to share. But he had to remind himself it had been little over a week since he’d fallen through the fissure, and something of this magnitude was bound to take time to solve. The problem was, they didn’t have time.</p>
<p>So far, there were twelve cases of twelve people that they were reasonably certain had been lost in the multiverse, and they’d all happened within the last few months. It was hard to know for certain, but they’d cross-referenced reports of missing people with energy spikes, and they were fairly certain there were six missing from earth, three from Xandar, two from the Garden and one from Knowhere. There were previous recordings of people seeing portals or stepping through for a moment that stretched back across the six years since Thanos had destroyed the stones, but they’d all reportedly come back. It was only recently that the portals had started opening long enough for people to actually get trapped on the other side. They had to assume that the glitches were getting worse.</p>
<p>Danvers was busy mapping the glitches across the universe, creating a heat map of their intensity. The map was largely yellow with patches of orange and some noticeable red spots, one of which was Earth. Their working theory was that the glitches clustered where the infinity stones had been used.</p>
<p>“Earth saw three snaps. And it housed the tesseract for centuries. The residual energy from the infinity stones is causing a surge in the glitches,” Danvers explained.</p>
<p>“So, it’s not this bad everywhere else in the universe?” Banner asked.</p>
<p>“Xandar, The Garden, Knowhere…everywhere the stones were used has experienced similar concentrations of unusual activity.” She panned across the little red dots scattered throughout the universe. “Anywhere the stones have been used since the universe began—and anywhere I’ve been,” she added, looking a little pissed off by that.</p>
<p>“Why?” Steve peered at her with a puzzled expression.</p>
<p>She held up her hands, which glowed slightly. Steve had put it down to the hologram every time, but now that he really paid attention, her outline definitely shimmered more than Thor’s or Rocket’s.</p>
<p>“My power comes from the tesseract. I’m walking, breathing, residual energy.”</p>
<p>And every glitch left more residual energy, doubling the concentration each time, speeding up the process at what could only be described as an exponential rate. No one wanted to know what would happen when the map was flooded with red; it couldn’t be anything good.</p>
<p>Strange started dropping into the lab more and more, not bothering to announce his arrival, simply slicing a disc of glowing orange from the air and stepping through. Steve was getting better at hiding his displeasure whenever that happened; he hadn’t actually growled at Strange in days. The man seemed oblivious to Steve’s resentment, or maybe he simply didn’t care. Sometimes, Steve got the impression that Strange deemed any personal opinions about himself as unworthy of his time. Although he seemed trustworthy enough, Steve couldn’t shake the feeling that there was something Strange wasn’t sharing with the group.</p>
<p>Steve took comfort in the fact that Bucky seemed to dislike him too, even unprovoked.</p>
<p>“Pretentious son-of-a-bitch, isn’t he?” Bucky commented one afternoon when he ventured down to the lab in time to witness Strange departing through his portal, sweeping his cloak behind him. Steve glanced up from his holographic screen to smile at him, but Bucky didn’t return the smile. In fact, his eyes seemed to gloss over Steve, looking hurt and annoyed by him; it made Steve’s squirm with guilt. Since the almost-kiss, he’d been keeping his distance from Bucky. He’d thought it was better for both of them, but now that he looked at Bucky—really looked—at the weary sadness in his expression—Steve couldn’t help but think he’d been wrong.</p>
<p>“We any closer to finding Sam?” It was the same question Bucky asked daily.</p>
<p>“We’re making progress.” Banner gave his usual response. It didn’t feel like enough. But how exactly were you meant to go about tracking one man through an infinite number of universes?</p>
<p>“Well, dinner’s up when you’re hungry,” Bucky told them before ducking out again without even giving them the chance to thank him. Steve watched him go, tracking his progress down the corridor through the wide glass wall of the lab, and his heart went out to him. This Bucky was grieving too, for something that no one would explain to Steve, and as wrong as it was to let his feelings for Bucky get confused, ignoring him was even worse. Steve chastised himself for failing Bucky once again and promised to make a concentrated effort not to continue failing him in the future.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0013"><h2>13. III . ii . i</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>This is a plot heavy / angst ridden chapter. I'm sorry! There's lots more Steve/Bucky moments in the next chapter. I promise we'll get to the fluff soon 💙💙💙💙💙</p>
<p>Thanks for all of your comments!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <strong>
    <span class="u">III.II. Secret Language</span>
  </strong>
</p>
<p>
  <span class="u"></span>
  <em>“A relationship is about inventing your own language. You’ve got the jokes, you’ve got the songs, you have this anecdote that’s going to make you laugh three years later. It’s this language that you build. That’s what you mourn for when you’re losing someone you love. This language you’re not going to speak with anybody else.” - Céline Sciamma</em>
</p>
<p>
  <strong>III.II.i</strong>
</p>
<p>
  <em>Bucky</em>
</p>
<p>Steve became even more closed off and brooding after the almost-kiss. He didn’t bring it up again and generally seemed to be avoiding Bucky. As far as Bucky could tell, Steve spent all of his time punching things to oblivion in the training room or running marathons around the compound, maybe even venturing off to follow the Hudson further upstate; <em>he </em>wasn’t limited by the confines of house arrest. Whilst it was tempting to hack the anklet and join Steve on one of his morning runs, Bucky knew it would be Sharon and Bernie’s neck on the line as well as his if he went and did something stupid like that, so he let it be. The grounds were large enough for an easy jog to fill his mornings, and with his head still ringing whenever his heart rate elevated above 100 bpm, Bucky suspected that going for a more strenuous run wasn’t the best idea, anyway.</p>
<p>The problem was, without anything else to distract him, Bucky was left to stew in his own thoughts. Banner still refused to let him help with whatever he was doing in the lab, saying that Bucky needed to “take it easy,” but Bucky was going out of his mind. He managed to beg a tablet off Banner, and after checking for the latest news of the inquest and finding nothing helpful (the government seemed to be trying to hush everything up again, as usual), he clicked through to find information on Bernie Rosenthal and the pardon he’d been granted during the blip. Apparently, there’d been a whole movement in 2020 coinciding with the 75th anniversary of VE Day. Bucky was surprised to find a video on youtube of a press conference on the Capitol Building steps after the pardon had been granted. Bernie was grinning triumphantly surrounded by a gaggle of people that Bucky had to guess were his distant relatives; an old woman who looked exactly like his grandma who must have been… Becca’s daughter perhaps? And her children? Bucky paused the video and stared. He’d looked up Becca as soon as he’d recovered his memories and had found that she was buried in Forest Hill Cemetery, in Indiana. He hadn’t thought to look up her family. </p>
<p>The most shocking thing about the video wasn’t any of that, though. It was the stone-faced, dead-eyed Steve Rogers standing alongside them all. He looked haggard and withdrawn, standing at parade rest, already lost to the role of Captain America.</p>
<p>“Everything okay?”</p>
<p>Bucky glanced up to find Steve back from his run, as sweaty and majestic as ever with his face pinched in concern for Bucky. A painful reminder of everything he’d lost.</p>
<p>“Fine.” Bucky waved him off trying to remember not to take his anger out on this Steve.</p>
<p>“If you’re sure.” Steve gave a sad smile and left, before Bucky could ask him to stay.</p>
<p>Bucky’s listless boredom and resentment grew, and he was so starved for company that he found himself actually looking forward to Sharon’s visit, even if it did mean rehashing everything with his lawyer. When they arrived the next day, he recognised Bernie from the youtube video, and whilst she looked just as professional—dressed in a sophisticated pencil skirt and blouse—and stern, the video had failed to capture the reassuring warmth that shone from her eyes. She clutched an overstuffed briefcase in one hand and held the other out for Bucky to shake, which he did, finding himself smiling back at her. She was one of those people who immediately invited your trust, which Bucky guessed was a good way of winning over juries and committees. Seeing her up close, he wasn’t surprised that she’d managed to win his case for him during the blip.</p>
<p>“It’s good to meet you, Ms. Rosenthal.” Bucky gave her a sincere smile.</p>
<p>“Likewise, James.”</p>
<p>“Please, it’s Bucky.”</p>
<p>“Well, in that case, I’m Bernie. Shall we?” She didn’t wait for confirmation, just swept past him towards the empty conference room that Bucky decided to use for the meeting.</p>
<p>Sharon smiled at him behind Bernie’s back, waggling her eyebrows in a look that clearly said, ‘told you she was good.’</p>
<p>“I’ll be in the common room if you need me,” she said, veering off.</p>
<p>“Oh, okay.” Bucky had foolishly expected Sharon to stay as well, but of course she wouldn’t; lawyer-client conversations were meant to be confidential.</p>
<p>They settled in the conference room, and Bernie turned down his offers of coffee or tea, but did accept a glass of water. Bucky poured one out for himself as well and left the jug between them in the middle of the table.</p>
<p>“Why did you fight for me? During the blip—why?” He had to ask; the question had been circling his mind since Sharon had dropped that particular piece of information, casually, like it wasn’t a big deal. But it was, it was huge.</p>
<p>“Because you’re a good man, Bucky. You deserved to have your name cleared.”</p>
<p>“But—but you don’t <em>know </em>me. We’ve never met.” He peered at her with a critical eye now, trying to work out if he recognised her from more than just the youtube video.</p>
<p>“No. But I grew up hearing stories about you,” Bernie said, her expression warm but unreadable. “My mom is friends with Lydia—Becca’s daughter,” she explained. Bucky’s chest tightened at the mention. “Your niece.”</p>
<p>Niece. God. A tight pain clenched around his heart.</p>
<p>“Lydia has asked if she could meet you, after the inquest is through.”</p>
<p>Bucky worked his jaw to try and find his voice, but it failed him for the moment. He’d never thought to look up Becca’s family; they felt too distant, too far away. But that word really brought it home: <em>niece</em>. How many times had he daydreamed about holding Becca’s kids one day? He’d never really considered having kids of his own, but he’d known he was going to dote on Becca’s. Spoil them rotten, read them stories, braid their hair, buy them useless toys that Becca would no doubt criticise him for.</p>
<p>“Yeah,” he croaked eventually. “Yeah, I’d like to meet her.”</p>
<p>“Okay. We can make that happen. But let’s focus on this first, shall we?” She flicked open her legal pad and held a pen poised to take notes. Bucky distantly wondered why she didn’t have an assistant to help her with that—but he suspected this was a highly confidential case; maybe she didn’t trust anyone else. He found he was secretly glad of that. One-on-one, it might just feel like a conversation, but with anyone else in the room, it would have felt more like an interrogation and Bucky wasn’t sure he could have handled that. “So, Bucky. Let’s start at the beginning. Tell me what happened after the GSG 9 operatives raided your apartment in Bucharest.”</p>
<p>The beginning, Bucky huffed internally, he wasn’t sure how that was a ‘beginning’, but he supposed that was when he’d started to recover his memories, when Zemo had first played his hand, and the American government first began to really make things difficult for him. All of what had happened between Bucharest, Berlin and Siberia was still muddled in Bucky’s mind, though. He took a drink of water and rolled the glass around on its rim. Bernie smiled at him with a calm reassurance and patiently waited for him to un-muddle his thoughts and turn them into sentences.</p>
<p>They talked for hours. She was very thorough in her questioning, making sure she had the story straight, leaving no stone unturned in the process. It brought back all sorts of memories that were difficult to discuss, especially ones of Steve. But when it got too difficult to talk, she gave him space to regroup, sometimes choosing a different tack and circling back to the difficult questions later. She also wanted to know everything that Bucky had uncovered about Ross, Weapons Plus, and Bradley. Apparently, Sharon had managed to squirrel those files to Bernie before the FBI raided Sam’s sister’s house and could confiscate them. Bernie planned to use them in the inquest, and Bucky trusted her to see the right people were brought to justice.</p>
<p>It was dark by the time she felt satisfied that she had all the information she needed.</p>
<p>“Will I have to testify?” Bucky asked. His hand shook slightly as he took a long drink from a glass of water, which was a testament to how much the conversation had shaken him. A sniper’s hands never shook.</p>
<p>“I hope it won’t come to that,” she assured him.</p>
<p>“What am I being charged with?” He realised belatedly, that he should have asked that at the beginning.</p>
<p>“The prosecutors are pushing for charges of domestic terrorism.”</p>
<p>Bucky paled.</p>
<p>“But we’re pushing back for trespassing and aggravated assault,” Bernie said in an attempt to reassure him, but it still didn’t sound very reassuring; those were serious charges. “We’re also arguing that Ross used excessive force and that your actions were in the defence of national interest,” she explained. “I’ll make sure all of his misdeeds come to light, and hopefully, we can get the whole case thrown out. Everyone’s very unclear about what happened, but what is clear is that Ross severely overstepped, and the national outcry is on your side. We should be able to keep your sentencing to a house arrest, or maybe even a fine, if the judge is feeling generous.”</p>
<p>Bucky shook his head. It wasn’t exactly like he <em>wanted </em>to go to prison, but. “I killed people, Bernie. In the fighting at Meade.”</p>
<p>“No, you didn’t. Ross and Zemo were the only casualties. Ross was shot by CIA personnel as they stormed the base, and we can assume Zemo was too.”</p>
<p>Bucky squeezed his eyes shut and shook his head. “I shot Zemo. I killed him.”</p>
<p>“From what I hear, Zemo tried to use an activation code on you for the third time.” Bernie reached out to cover Bucky’s flesh hand with her own. “He was caught in the cross-fire as CIA operatives stormed the facility. That’s the story we’ll be sticking to, do you understand me?”</p>
<p>Bucky glanced up to meet her no-nonsense stare.</p>
<p>“Yes, ma’am.”</p>
<p>“Good.” She retracted her hand and started shuffling her files together. “I need to get all of this back to DC. I’ll call you if I need any further information, but this should be more than enough.” It didn’t take her long to pack everything away, and soon Bucky was escorting her back to the common room to find Sharon.</p>
<p>“All set?” Sharon had set up her laptop on the dining table, which she folded closed as soon as Bernie walked into the room.</p>
<p>“I think I have everything I need.”</p>
<p>“Great.” Sharon beamed.</p>
<p>“Do you have to leave right away, or do you want to stay for dinner?” Bucky offered. So far mealtimes had been a lonely affair, with Bucky ordering enough take-out to feed a soccer team, then taking his share and eating it in front of the TV, leaving the rest in the fridge for Steve and Banner to find whenever they were done doing…whatever it was they did all day.</p>
<p>“We’d love to stay.”</p>
<p>They ordered pizzas, lots of them, and sat around the dining table discussing their favourite murder mystery books and mocking the depiction of lawyers in courtroom dramas. It was the first pleasant evening Bucky'd had in a long while, until Sharon pulled him aside for a quiet word before she left.</p>
<p>“I promised Steve I’d give you this,” she said and handed Bucky a letter from Steve, <em>his </em>Steve, the one who’d abandoned him. It was in a thick envelope with ‘<em>To Bucky, all my love, Steve’</em> written in Steve’s sloping scrawl across the front. Bucky resisted the urge to rip it to shreds there and then.</p>
<p>“You don’t have to read it,” Sharon said quickly, sounding annoyed at playing messenger between them. Bucky didn’t know her feelings on Steve’s departure and honestly? He didn’t want to know. There’d clearly been something burgeoning between them before Bucky had come back into Steve’s life. Whilst Bucky couldn’t begrudge Steve for trying to move on, especially not when he’d thought Bucky was dead, Bucky had been a little perturbed by who he’d decided to move on with (she was Peggy’s niece! Adopted niece, whatever). It had been bad enough when Peggy was just Steve’s old flame, but after he decided to go back and marry her? It felt wrong on so many levels. Bucky didn’t want to know that Sharon was okay with that. And if she wasn’t, and still found it in her heart to forgive Steve? Well, Bucky didn’t like the idea of that, either.</p>
<p>“I won’t,” Bucky promised. But he took the letter and only crumpled it slightly in his metal fist. “How is he?” He could tell himself he didn’t care, but the jolt of fear that struck him when he thought that Sharon was going to tell him Steve had died wasn’t easy to forget. Somewhere in the back of Bucky’s traitorous mind and splintered heart, he did still care.</p>
<p>“Old.” She pinched her lips together in a poor effort to keep her expression neutral. Maybe she wasn’t as unaffected as he’d first thought.</p>
<p>Bucky waved them off, with his head reeling from a long and draining day. His temples had started to pound sometime during dinner and what Bucky feared was becoming a perpetual piercing pain behind his left eye was back. He swallowed a handful of Tylenol, chasing it with a glass of water, and staggered to bed. He shoved the letter into the drawer of his bedside table and tried to block it from his mind. It would be a cold day in hell when he wanted to hear what Steve had to say to him.</p>
<p>*✧･ﾟ:* ✧*:･ﾟ✧*</p>
<p>An unexpected visit came a few days later in the form of Darlene, when she showed up at the compound with all of the belongings that Bucky had left at Sam’s sister’s house. She pulled Bucky into a warm hug as soon as he greeted her in the foyer, gripping him tight in a motherly embrace. Bucky had to bend down awkwardly to rest his head on her shoulder, but it was completely worth the crick he’d get in his back. So far, he’d managed not to cry over Sam, but faced with such tenderness and enveloped in a hug that felt so secure, Bucky finally let himself break down.</p>
<p>“I’m sorry,” he sobbed into her shoulder. “I’m so sorry. We’ll get him back, we have to.”</p>
<p>Darlene stroked the back of Bucky’s neck and let him have his moment before grabbing his face in both of her hands and forcing him to look her in the eye.</p>
<p>“I know you will. He trusted you, and so do I.”</p>
<p>Bucky nodded and sniffed back his tears, wishing he had as much conviction in himself as she did.</p>
<p>The authorities had told her pitifully little about Sam’s disappearance, so Bucky filled her in as best he could. He skipped over the part about the entire universe being on the brink of collapse, but assured her that the finest minds in the galaxy were working hard to bring Sam home.</p>
<p>He gratefully took his duffle bag of items from her and readily accepted when she invited herself to stay for lunch. Together they prepared a hearty meal, undaunted by the prospect of catering for the ravenous appetites of two super soldiers and a Hulk. Darlene even insisted on prepping a few meals to be frozen for later, not trusting Bucky to feed himself properly.</p>
<p>“You were so skinny when I first met you,” she chastised, and pinched his cheek. “Don’t think I’ll let you slip back into your old ways just because I’m not here to watch you every hour of the day. Harlem’s not too far from here, you know.”</p>
<p>Bucky couldn’t help but give her another hug. “You know I’d come and visit if I could.” They both glanced down at his anklet. “But you’re welcome here anytime.”</p>
<p>“I’ll hold you to that.”</p>
<p>The meal prep took hours, but it was just the sort of distraction Bucky needed. He dutifully peeled and chopped the vegetables, following Darlene’s instructions carefully and preening under her praise. For the first time in days, he actually felt useful. He convinced her to send him some recipes—asking for all of the favourites they’d eaten back in New Orleans—and, later, whiling away the long, lonesome mornings by preparing elaborate meals became Bucky’s new way to pass the time.</p>
<p>He wasn’t sure if it was the food, or if the simple act of eating together helped foster a more welcoming atmosphere, but as soon as Bucky started cooking meals for the three of them (coaxing Banner out of the lab and drawing Steve away from his solo drills in the training room) Steve finally began to warm up to him. He no longer fled whenever Bucky smiled at him, and their conversations became less stilted, less like it pained Steve just to talk to him. Bucky still couldn’t untangle all of his mixed-up emotions about Steve, either one of them, but he couldn’t deny that the company was nice. As food seemed to be the answer, Bucky threw himself into preparing more and more complex meals and bakes. Somehow October had slipped into November, and with Thanksgiving was fast approaching, Bucky was determined to perfect a recipe for a pie. He’d let last year’s Thanksgiving pass him by in a blur of depression and anger; he wanted to make sure that this year was celebrated right.</p>
<p>His grandmother used to make a meringue pumpkin pie every year, before the Great Depression, at least, and before her hands got so arthritic that she couldn’t hold a spoon. Bucky had stood at her knee countless times and watched her measure out the ingredients from memory, judging everything by eye and getting it perfect every time. Not possessing her skill and experience, Bucky turned to google for a likely recipe.</p>
<p>Before long, the smell wafted through the compound and Banner slunk into the common room to continue working on his laptop from the dining room table. Bucky flicked on the TV whilst he waited for the pie to bake and slumped onto the sofa without really paying attention to what he turned on. He was absently scrolling through his phone when Banner gave a strangled yelp from behind him. Bucky flicked his eyes up to the TV and instantly wished he hadn’t. The news was covering footage of Ross’s funeral. Despite the exposé and the on-going inquest, he’d still been a sitting Vice-President when he died, and as such, was afforded a state funeral—though the inquest had somewhat delayed the proceedings.</p>
<p>Bucky clenched his jaw as he watched the procession journey down Pennsylvania Avenue. The camera panned to Ross’ family members marching solemnly behind the horse-drawn caisson bearing a flag-draped casket before the footage cut to an overhead shot of the procession, highlighting the flag-waving crowds lining each side of the avenue. Banner stumbled towards the TV and slumped down onto the sofa with such force that it groaned, even though it was reinforced and meant to be Hulk-proof. Banner kept his eyes fixed on the TV screen and gave the same pained gasp whenever they cut to a dark-haired, ethereal-looking woman.</p>
<p>The coverage stopped when the procession disappeared into the Capitol Building, and Bucky flicked off the TV again, but Banner stayed frozen in front of it.</p>
<p>“Who is she?” Bucky asked gently.</p>
<p>“Betty Ross.” Banner pulled off his glasses and wiped his eyes. Bucky was alarmed to realise that Banner was crying. “Ross’s daughter.”</p>
<p>“Who was she to you?”</p>
<p>“Aah,” Banner gave a pained sigh. “I loved her once. A long time ago.”</p>
<p>Bucky went to Banner, sitting next to him on the sofa to place a gentle hand on Banner’s knee. “What happened?”</p>
<p>“This happened.” Banner gestured to himself, a note of disgust in his voice. “The Hulk. After that, there was no way for us to be together. I couldn’t put her in danger.”</p>
<p>Bucky glanced back at the screen as he cast his mind back to the image of Betty. She’d looked sombre but not heartbroken, dressed in a well-cut black peacoat over a black shift dress and boots. She hadn’t been wearing a wedding ring.</p>
<p>“Did she know?”</p>
<p>“I don’t want to talk about it.” Banner’s voice sounded thick.</p>
<p>“C’mon, Bruce. You’ve heard all my sorry problems,” Bucky tried.</p>
<p>Banner scrubbed a hand down his face. “We were together at Culver. She was part of the Bio-Tech Force Enhancement Project, too. She was there when…” Banner grunted and pushed himself away from Bucky. He paced over to the window and stared out, his expression morosely bleak. “Her father hunted me down. Ross has always been an absolute hypocrite when it comes to super soldiers, or super<em>heroes</em>.” Banner said the word ‘hero’ like an insult. Bucky found himself grateful that Banner had been MIA during the mess with the Accords, or things might have gotten even more out of hand. “She always knew he was a terrible person. But he was still her dad. I didn’t want to come between them, and I was so…<em>scared</em> of hurting her. So I left.”</p>
<p>Bucky remembered everything he’d read about Ross’s insane manhunt. There had been no mention of Betty, but it couldn’t have been easy for her to have been caught up in the middle of that. Not easy for Bruce, knowing that he was putting her in that position. Bucky’s heart went out to him.</p>
<p>“When was the last time you saw her?”</p>
<p>“2010.”</p>
<p>Bucky always hated seeing people in pain, and Banner was clearly in pain. Fourteen years was a long time to have been nursing a broken heart.</p>
<p>“Have you considered, now that you’re stable, talking to her?”</p>
<p>Banner barked a laugh that was far more Hulk than it was Bruce. “How can I? After everything that’s happened?”</p>
<p>Bucky shrugged.</p>
<p>“She won’t want to see me.”</p>
<p>“You won’t know until you try.”</p>
<p>Banner rounded on him, eyes blazing. If he weren’t already permanently hulked out, Bucky would have feared a transformation. Even still, he seemed to grow bigger, looming over Bucky and glaring down at him.</p>
<p>“You of all people should understand.”</p>
<p>“What the hell does that mean?” Bucky stood to square up to the Hulk.</p>
<p>“I <em>left </em>her. I ran away. I didn’t even give her a proper goodbye,” he growled. “Tell me you’d be happy if Steve tried to reach out to you.”</p>
<p>A wave of nausea rolled through Bucky’s stomach. “That’s not the same.”</p>
<p>“Yes, it is!”</p>
<p>“No, you left her to protect her, she’ll understand that. Steve…Steve left to protect himself,” Bucky huffed.</p>
<p>“Isn’t that the same?”</p>
<p>“No.”</p>
<p>“I protected her because I didn’t know what I would do if I lost her.”</p>
<p>Bucky’s vision swam, the room felt claustrophobic and his clothes were too hot and too tight.</p>
<p>“It’s not the same,” he snapped and stormed from the common area to barricade himself in his room, trying to remember how to breathe. He balled his fist and punched his thigh. God damn it. He’d been <em>fine</em>. He’d been fine. He’d accepted Steve’s horrible choices and moved on. Why did it feel like he was slipping back to square one?</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0014"><h2>14. III . ii . ii</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Please remember Bucky's a fairly unreliable narrator - and he hasn't read the letter from Old Steve yet, so we don't know if Bucky's specultions about his motivations for leaving are true....</p>
<p>More angst, I'm sorry! There'll be fluff in the next chapter 💙💙💙</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <strong>III.II.ii</strong>
</p>
<p>
  <em>Bucky</em>
</p>
<p>By the time Bucky managed to get a lid on his emotions and ventured back into the common room, there was no sign of Bruce but the place was filling with a stream of black smoke leaking from the edges of the oven.</p>
<p>“Oh, <em>shit</em>,” Bucky cursed and hurried to pull the pie from the oven. It was burnt, incinerated really, and Bucky shoved it straight into the trash with a sigh. He took a moment to breathe deeply, trying not to let himself feel overwhelmed, and forced himself straight into making another attempt. In the end, it worked out for the best; the repetitive movements of rolling out the pastry helped to quiet his mind, and Bucky actually thought he’d done a better job with the pie crust than last time.</p>
<p>He was finishing up the meringue with a blowtorch when Steve returned from his run. He headed straight to the fridge and chugged a bottle of water as usual before sagging against the countertop. He was dripping with sweat and mud was flecked up the backs of his calves. Bucky nearly set the damn pie on fire as he watched Steve’s chest rise and fall with ragged breaths.</p>
<p>“Smells divine,” Steve exhaled breathily once he’d recovered enough to speak.</p>
<p>“Hope it tastes as good.” Bucky stepped back and wiped his hands on a tea towel to survey his work. The peaks of the meringue were tall and golden, the crust was neat and evenly baked, and the extra pastry leaves he’d made to sit on top of the pie made it look like it had stepped straight off the screen from the cooking blog he’d stolen the recipe from (after reading a 3,000 word essay on the blogger’s family trip to Italy, which was apparently relevant because the pie used Italian meringue?). It wasn’t quite the same as his grandmother’s, but it didn’t look bad for a first (and a half) attempt.</p>
<p>“Don’t let Banner eat it all before I get back.” Steve made Bucky promise he wouldn’t and ran off to shower. Bucky snapped some photos on his phone, momentarily thrown off by the urge to send them to Sam. He sent one anyway so that it would be waiting for Sam when he got back, and then pinged a couple to Darlene and Sharon before moving the pie to cool down in the fridge.</p>
<p>He’d never expected to get so attached to his phone, but the relief when Darlene had returned it to him had been visceral. After charging it up, he’d found fifteen missed calls and a dozen more messages from Shuri apologising for missing the trigger word. He’d barely hit send on a reply when she was facetiming him from her lab. For the first time since he’d known her, Shuri had looked like the teenager she actually was, and her distress damn near broke Bucky’s heart. He’d given her the biggest smile he could muster and assured her it wasn’t her fault. She’d done absolute fucking wonders with his mincemeat brain.</p>
<p><em>“I’m here aren’t I?”</em> Bucky had grinned. <em>“All it gave me was a nosebleed and a headache, I’m fine. Honestly Shuri, you did great.” </em></p>
<p>
  <em>“I’m visiting an outreach centre in the USA in a few weeks, I’ll drop in on my way back.”</em>
</p>
<p><em>“You’d better,”</em> Bucky had grinned.</p>
<p>Now, he scrolled back through his old messages as he waited for the pie to cool, skipping past the latest memes she’d sent him (most of which were incomprehensible) back up to the photos she’d sent a few weeks ago of the latest herd of baby goats frolicking about on his old farm. It would have been unfair to expect Wakanda to keep hosting him after he’d recovered, but sometimes Bucky wished he could have gone back there after everything with Thanos.</p>
<p>He clicked away from the photos that were only making him homesick for a place he couldn’t return to and opened up the latest scientific journal he was reading through, instead. Reading through it was slow going, he had to keep pausing to google technical terms and theories that he didn’t understand (his high school diploma was nearly ninety years out of date, after all), and his persistent headache made it difficult to read for sustained periods of time. But as distractions went, it worked wonders, and Bucky was fascinated by it all the same. He might have been benched, and Banner and Strange might keep refusing his help, but he was determined to try and do whatever he could to get Sam back; brushing up on his scientific knowledge seemed like it would come in handy later.</p>
<p>Bucky was so engrossed in the journal that he didn’t notice Steve returning or taking a seat at the other end of the sofa. It was only when the words began to blur and his eyes began to water from the strain of focusing on his phone screen that Bucky looked up and found Steve smiling at him.</p>
<p>“You looked engrossed. Didn’t want to disturb you,” Steve explained, looking a little sheepish to have been caught staring. The smile suited him, and it was far more familiar than the scowl. “What were you reading?”</p>
<p>“Quantum mechanics.” Bucky smirked back, aiming to make himself sound smart.</p>
<p>“Of course, I should have guessed.” Steve snorted a laugh. “Anything in particular?”</p>
<p>“Quantum superposition in support of the multiverse theory.” Bucky grinned.</p>
<p>“Right, sure. I think I read something similar before bed yesterday,” Steve deadpanned.</p>
<p>“You finally moved on from picture books, then?” Bucky returned easily, falling back into the old repertoire of teasing.</p>
<p>Steve looked stunned for a second before giving a gruff laugh. “Seem to recall you liked reading comic books just as much as me.”</p>
<p>“Hey, I won’t hear a bad word about comics,” Bucky protested—apart from the ones in the late forties and fifties that decided to depict Bucky as Cap’s teenage sidekick, anyway. “But they hardly count as <em>reading</em>.”</p>
<p>Steve dipped his head and laughed, looking more and more, with every passing second, like the Steve that Bucky knew and loved. Whatever had brought on this change in Steve, Bucky decided he was a fan. “Not all of us had a college-age reading level in kindergarten, Buck.” It was said in the familiar mocking tone that managed to convey both pride at how smart Bucky was and despair over what he was usually wasting his talents on.</p>
<p>Bucky stretched his legs to give Steve a soft kick in the thigh.</p>
<p>“No, some of us had the attention span of a defective goldfish and a short-fuse temper to boot,” Bucky retorted with an eye roll. Maybe it was because he’d spent so much of his childhood bedridden, but Steve never seemed to have the patience to sit and read. He didn’t mind being read to, though, especially not if it meant he had his hands free to keep himself occupied drawing or knitting or playing with Bucky’s hair. A memory surfaced, one Bucky had almost forgotten, the pair of them sprawled on their lumpy bed, Steve’s head in Bucky’s lap and a sketch book propped on his chest.</p>
<p><em>“Why would I bother, when you can just read to me?” </em>he’d asked, tilting his head back to give Bucky a lopsided grin. Bucky had reached down to ruffle Steve’s hair and mutter a fond, <em>“Punk,”</em> before dutifully starting to read out loud.</p>
<p>“Jerk,” Steve said, cutting through Bucky’s memory with a grin.</p>
<p>“Punk,” Bucky replied automatically. It was so familiar that it made Bucky’s head spin.</p>
<p>He knew it was wrong to let his thoughts muddle and conflate this Steve with the man that Bucky had known and loved practically all his life, and he knew he shouldn’t be getting too attached. After all, as soon as they’d worked out how to control the borders between worlds, Steve would be returning home and Bucky would be left alone again. But it was very difficult to temper his feelings, especially when Steve was sitting on the couch laughing and joking in the same way they always had.</p>
<p>“Is it too early to tuck into that pie yet?” Steve asked with a hopeful smile.</p>
<p>Bucky shook the hopeless, unhelpful thoughts from his brain and gave a soft shrug. “It’s just practise for Thanksgiving, we can eat it whenever we want. As long as we save some for Banner.”</p>
<p>“You could always just make another,” Steve suggested, following Bucky to the counter to watch him portion out a slice.</p>
<p>“You haven’t even tasted this one yet; it might be awful.”</p>
<p>“It won’t be.” Steve sounded confident. He grabbed forks from the cutlery drawer and dug into his slice before Bucky had even finished cutting himself a piece. The noise Steve made when he tasted it was positively pornographic. Bucky felt the tips of his ears burn pink. “God, <em>Buck</em>, this is divine.” Steve stuffed another forkful in his face. “It tastes like home.” His shoulders sagged and an expression of pure bliss dawned across his face. He looked happier than he’d been since Bucky had first found him at Fort Meade.</p>
<p>Bucky tentatively took a mouthful of the pie; it did taste pretty good.</p>
<p>“Just like your grandma’s pie.” Steve wolfed down another mouthful and all but melted as he slumped back onto the sofa. “She always saved leftovers for me and my ma—d’you remember? God, that was always the best part about Thanksgiving. I didn’t think I’d ever get to taste it again.”</p>
<p>Bucky was shocked to hear that Steve’s childhood sounded so familiar. He knew they couldn’t be remembering exactly the same thing, but his grandmother <em>had </em>always made an extra pie for him to take to Steve and Sarah for Thanksgiving. They’d always been invited to spend Thanksgiving dinner with the Barnes family, but Steve’s ma had always declined. Steve had carried on declining after she’d died, and Bucky had carried on taking him round a pie—even when the pie lost the meringue topping during the Depression era, and the filling lost most of the butter, sugar, and eggs that actually made it edible. When Bucky’s family moved back to Indiana and Bucky moved in with Steve, that tradition ended; they didn’t bother with fancy Thanksgiving dinners, but Bucky always tried to buy some tinned fruit or penny sweets to make the day a little sweeter. One year, he’d bought a tin of cherries and they’d sat side by side on the floor, facing their little window with their backs to the wall, slumped low enough that they could just see the sky above the building opposite. They ate the cherries straight from the tin with their fingers getting covered in the sticky sweet syrup and laughing about something stupid until all the sugar made them feel sick.</p>
<p>Bucky stared at Steve as he wolfed down his slice of pie, wondering. Since Steve had told him he’d been born in the eighties, since Bucky had heard about the war for New York, the gamma world—he’d assumed they’d lived completely different lives. Now he wasn’t so sure.</p>
<p>“Mhmmm.” Steve hummed as he finished his plate. He let it settle on his lap for a minute before turning to Bucky with a mischievous smile. “Y’know, we don’t have to tell Banner that you baked…” Steve lifted his eyebrows at Bucky and eyed the rest of the pie still sitting on the countertop.</p>
<p>Bucky pulled himself from his reverie and managed to smile. “Why, Steve, are you suggesting we <em>lie</em>?” Bucky pretended to be offended. “It’s no use anyway, he saw me baking it.” Although the one Banner had seen baking had ended up in the bin… “I guess I can always make another.” It was very moreish, and they did have super-metabolisms to feed. Bucky caved and cut them each another large slice, leaving a small portion for Banner (and hiding it in the fridge before Steve could decide that he wanted to polish that off, too). He handed Steve back his plate, which he readily accepted, shifting to tuck his leg underneath him on the sofa and digging back in with relish. It was almost comical how much he loved the pie—although, Bucky didn’t like to think what kind of food would have been available on a ‘hell world corrupted by gamma,’ so maybe it had just been a really long time since Steve had gotten to eat this kind of comfort food. Bucky vowed to start baking desserts and sweet treats more often.</p>
<p>“If you’re taking requests,” Steve said with a sly smile, almost like he could read Bucky’s mind, “I’d really like that cherry cobbler that was your grandma’s speciality. I would lie and cheat <em>and</em> steal to get another taste of that pie.”</p>
<p>Forgotten memories flooded Bucky’s mind. “Oh my god, I forgot how obsessed you were with that.” Bucky laughed. “And we did steal it once, right from the kitchen table.”</p>
<p>Steve laughed. “I went up the middle, you flanked to the left—”</p>
<p>“—And we met up a block away to share the spoils,” Bucky finished, delighted and utterly surprised to find that that was a memory they both shared.</p>
<p>Steve turned, mouth agape, apparently only just realising that he wasn’t speaking to his Bucky. His expression turned crestfallen, and Bucky’s heart ached for him.</p>
<p>“Yeah, we stole that pie, too,” Bucky said. “Seems like some things are a universal constant.”</p>
<p>“A <em>multi-</em>universal constant.” Steve smiled, but there was something a little forlorn about it. “Sorry. I know you’re not him. It’s just difficult…I miss him so much. And you look just like him.”</p>
<p>Bucky couldn’t fault Steve; he was getting the lines blurred, himself. “I <em>am </em>him. It’s okay.”</p>
<p>“No, it’s not.” Steve pushed his empty plate onto the coffee table and dropped his head into his hands.</p>
<p>Bucky had been so busy stuck inside his own head and trying to get a handle on his own emotions that he’d failed to notice how Steve was doing. He was quieter, maybe, and a little more reserved than the Steve he’d known, but he’d seemed fine. Bucky now realised that it was all a thin veneer stretched tight across someone desperately trying to hold himself together. Of course, he wasn’t okay, he’d lost his warbound, practically his husband, and now he was trapped on a second foreign world with a stranger wearing Bucky’s face.</p>
<p>Except, he wasn’t a stranger. They shared a surprising amount of memories, and they knew the shorthand for each other’s emotions; they could read one another like a book. From what little Bucky had gleaned over the last few weeks, Steve was still Steve, and Bucky was still Bucky.</p>
<p>Bucky pushed his plate away, too, and scooted closer to Steve. He reached out to place his hand gently on Steve’s arm, which prompted Steve to look up at him. His eyes glistened with the threat of tears and Bucky just wanted to wrap him in a giant hug.</p>
<p>“I shouldn’t have tried to kiss you.” Steve sounded choked. “I’m sorry. It was out of line.”</p>
<p>“It’s really okay.”</p>
<p>“No, it’s <em>not</em>. You’re not him. You’re your own person, with your own history, your own thoughts and feelings. Your own life here. I can’t expect you to be him. It’s not fair. To either of you.”</p>
<p>“Maybe not,” Bucky huffed back. “But in this universe, my Steve’s an asshole who left me. And in your universe, your Bucky was taken from you, so I don’t really know what’s fair anymore.”</p>
<p>“He left you?”</p>
<p>“Yep.”</p>
<p>“Voluntarily?” Steve sounded shocked.</p>
<p>“Went and married someone else. So, it’s not like I’m stepping out on him, or anything. Plus, he’s like ninety, now.” Bucky sighed and let his head fall on Steve’s shoulder. It wasn’t the hug he wanted, but it was close.</p>
<p>“What happened?”</p>
<p>“That’s a long and miserable story.”</p>
<p>“We’ve got time.”</p>
<p>“You don’t want to hear it.”</p>
<p>“I do, Buck.” Steve clasped Bucky’s hand with his own. “I need to hear it. I need to know what makes you <em>you</em>.”</p>
<p>Which was fair enough in theory. But in practise, rehashing his sorry tale was just going to bring every emotion crashing back to the surface, emotions Bucky was already working hard to keep in check as it was. And then there was the crux of the matter, the kernel of fear at the heart of Bucky’s anger and misery that he tried to keep hidden even from himself.</p>
<p>“You might think differently of me when I’m through. I’ve done some awful things,” he said in a very small voice.</p>
<p>“So, have I, Buck.”</p>
<p>Bucky screwed his eyes shut and shook his head, Steve didn’t understand. Whatever Steve had done couldn’t compare to everything Bucky did at the hands of Hydra. He may have been granted a pardon, his therapists might have tried to convince Bucky that it wasn’t his fault, but he still hadn’t managed to fully forgive himself.</p>
<p>“You might not like what you hear. You might…leave,” Bucky pressed on. That was his overriding fear, that this Steve might leave, just like the other Steve had; Bucky knew he wouldn’t be able to face that.</p>
<p>Steve twisted to wrap his arms around Bucky’s shoulders and hugged him tight. “Whatever it is, Bucky, I don’t think there’s anything you can tell me that would make me want to leave you.”</p>
<p>“You don’t know that,” Bucky countered, holding himself stiffly in Steve’s embrace.</p>
<p>“No. I don’t.” Steve pulled back, but he slid his hands down to clutch Bucky’s arms as he stared at Bucky, looking so hurt and troubled himself. “But I’ve made plenty of my own mistakes, and I know now that judgement isn’t the way to go. Whatever it is that you did that you think is so bad, I can tell you—mine’s probably worse.”</p>
<p>Bucky highly doubted that, but curiosity gripped him all the same. “What did you do?” he asked, peering up at Steve with concern.</p>
<p>Steve wavered for a second, looking like he was warring within himself to confess or not. But eventually he dropped his gaze and let his hands fall from Bucky’s arms.</p>
<p>“Besides everything in the killiseum?” He screwed his face up and shook his head, bracing himself to come clean. “I killed someone. In cold blood. I let my anger get the better of me and I failed. Failed Bucky. Failed myself.” He looked so devastated, so ashamed and cut up about it. <em>Oh Steve—</em>Bucky gave an internal sigh—so noble hearted.</p>
<p>“That’s it?” Maybe Bucky was a terrible person for thinking so, but it really didn’t compare.</p>
<p>“You don’t understand.”</p>
<p>“No. I do.” Bucky stood up and retreated away from Steve. There was no way this Steve was ever going to understand what Bucky had been through, what he’d done, and if Bucky told him, there’d be no going back.</p>
<p>As he watched Steve’s brow crease with concern—a look that was achingly familiar—a horrible realisation dawned on him. One he’d been trying to deny for ages. But he was staring at the truth, now, at the honest innocence that shone from Steve’s eyes, despite everything he’d suffered. Bucky’s Steve had left him, not because he couldn’t bear to lose Bucky again, but because he already had; he’d lost Bucky to the Winter Soldier, because even though he’d physically recovered, he’d never be the same man he was.</p>
<p>“I <em>understand </em>that what I did is too terrible for you to ever forgive,” Bucky said. “I think you should leave.”</p>
<p>“What?”</p>
<p>Bucky took a shaky breath and stepped away from the couch and turned towards the window.</p>
<p>“Leave. Please.”</p>
<p>“Bucky, what—what are you saying?” Steve sounded frantic but Bucky wouldn’t turn to look at him. “Bucky, please. Whatever is it—I promise, I won’t judge you, I won’t—”</p>
<p>“How could you not?” Bucky shouted. “<em>One life</em>, you think taking one innocent life is too terrible a thought to bear, I can’t…” He trailed off, shaking his head and fighting against tears that threatened to spill from his eyes and choke up his throat. “I won’t ruin your memories of <em>him—</em>your Bucky, your warbound—with the tarnished version of me, okay? I won’t do that to you.”</p>
<p>“You won’t, I promise you. You won’t. You can tell me,” Steve begged.</p>
<p>Bucky shook his head and choked back a sob. “I will.” He stared up at the ceiling, fighting back tears. “I will and you’ll hate me for it.”</p>
<p>“You don’t know that.”</p>
<p>“I do! I do, because Steve did!” Bucky yelled back. He rounded on Steve with anger blazing from his eyes. “My Steve hated everything I’ve done and it ate away at him until he couldn’t bear to look at me anymore. It’s the only explanation that makes sense. Why he spent less and less time in Wakanda the more I opened up. Why he left the very first chance he got, going back to <em>before</em>. Going back to her.”</p>
<p>“Bucky…” Steve reached out an impossibly gentle hand and placed it on Bucky’s arm, but Bucky swatted him away and strode across the room. “I don’t believe that.”</p>
<p>“I don’t give a flying fuck about what you <em>believe</em>. It happened. Maybe it was for the best. Steve’s happy now, Sam says it. Sharon doesn’t deny it. Maybe he really was better off without me. And I won’t burden you with everything I did. I just won’t.” Bucky finally brought his eyes up to Steve, completely unprepared for the look of hurt and concern he saw in Steve’s eyes.</p>
<p>“I’m not him. I won’t judge you, I won’t—”</p>
<p>“How can you not? Steve? You think it’s so terrible to kill one innocent man. I killed hundreds!” Bucky snapped. Steve frowned in confusion but he didn’t back away. Bucky deflated and dropped his gaze to the floor. “Hundreds of innocent men…women and <em>children</em>,” he admitted, feeling disgusted within himself. “Didn’t matter that I was forced. Brainwashed. However, you want to excuse it. It was still my hand on the trigger.” Or the knife. Or right around their throats. Bucky turned away, unable to face up to Steve, who stayed silent, clearly horrified. “It’s alright.” Bucky kicked the leg of a dining chair in frustration. At himself, at Steve. At Hydra. The whole fucking world. “You don’t have to say anything. Just go.”</p>
<p>But Steve didn’t go. He stayed.</p>
<p>“Brainwashed,” he said so quietly, Bucky wasn’t sure he would have heard it if not for his enhanced hearing. “Banner mentioned triggers…he, uh, he said something about a kill code?”</p>
<p>“Yeah.” Bucky huffed a laugh that rang empty and false.</p>
<p>“Then it wasn’t your fault, Bucky.”</p>
<p>“It was.”</p>
<p>“You were <em>forced</em>. It isn’t any different to what I did in the Killiseum.”</p>
<p>“I think it is,” Bucky scoffed.</p>
<p>“No. It’s not. All those people and creatures I killed. Five years’ worth. It’s not any different. Except maybe I had a choice whether or not to fight back, one that I didn’t take.”</p>
<p>“How could you? They would have killed you for it,” Bucky argued.</p>
<p>“How’s that not the same, Bucky?”</p>
<p>“Because.” Bucky flipped the chair out of the way with his metal hand, sending it spinning into the wall. It didn’t break, which would have been satisfying; it just bounced off the wall and tipped over onto one side. “Because... if it wasn’t because of what I’ve done, then why did Steve leave? If it wasn’t because of who I became… then it was because I wasn’t good enough all along.” He let out in a small, terrified voice.</p>
<p>And that was the crux of the matter, the centre of the tangled web of feelings Bucky had been burying deep and trying to ignore for the better part of two years. If Steve hadn’t left because of the Winter Soldier, then he’d left because of <em>Bucky</em>. And that hurt more than anything else. Bucky would rather bear the weight of the guilt from the Winter Soldier’s kills than have that be true. He broke down, bracing his arms on the dining table to catch his weight as he tipped forward to cry big ugly tears.</p>
<p>“Oh, no. Bucky, no.” Steve was on him in an instant, wrapping him in his arms and holding on tight. “No, that’s not true.” He spun Bucky to face him and wrapped him in a bruising hug. “I know things might have gone a little differently on this earth, but Bucky was always the best and brightest thing in my life. From what I’ve seen, I can’t believe that’s any different here.”</p>
<p>Bucky just sobbed into Steve’s shoulder, grabbing fistfuls of Steve’s shirt. He wanted to believe him, wanted more than anything to accept his words and absolve himself of the hurt and doubts and self-loathing he harboured, but he couldn’t.</p>
<p>“Whatever reasons Steve had for leaving, it can’t have been you. He’s the biggest idiot, the most… absolute fucking <em>bastard </em>in the entire <em>multiverse </em>if he let you think that—even for a second,” Steve insisted.</p>
<p>Bucky gave another sob.</p>
<p>“Look at me.”</p>
<p>Reluctantly Bucky lifted his eyes to meet Steve’s.</p>
<p>“I don’t know everything that happened, but I know that if he left you, then he doesn’t deserve you. I know he’s not worth your hate. He’s not worth all this.”</p>
<p>Bucky frowned and spluttered, not following. “You want me to just forgive him? Do you think I <em>want </em>to feel this way? You think I want to carry this bitterness in my heart? I want to be able to forgive him so badly. But I can’t. I just can’t.”</p>
<p>“No. No. ‘Course not. I’m not saying you have to forgive him. Fuck that. No. I’m saying he’s not worth that bitterness, Bucky. He’s not worth you tearing yourself apart like this. If he wants forgiveness, then he’d better damn well earn it. Until then, he’s not worth one second of your time. Not worth a single tear.”</p>
<p>Bucky wanted to laugh. It came more like a choked-off sob instead.</p>
<p>“I tried that,” he said. “Tried to ignore him. I was doing a pretty good job of it until you showed up—a big blonde reminder. Brought all these feelings back to the surface.” Bucky sniffed.</p>
<p>“I’m sorry. Truly, I am.”</p>
<p>“Yeah. So am I.”</p>
<p>“I’ll leave, if you want me to. I don’t ever want to make things difficult for you, Bucky. But if my being here—”</p>
<p>“No.” Bucky cut him off. He was starting to see through the fog, starting to see what he wanted now. “No, please stay. You’re not him. And I know I’m a pretty paltry shade of your Bucky. But I think I’d like—if it’s possible. To be friends?”</p>
<p>“There’s nothing paltry about you, Bucky. From everything I’ve seen, I’d say you’re pretty fucking wonderful. And yeah. I’d like that. Friends.” Steve smiled, bright and golden as ever before scooping Bucky back into his arms. Held there, safe and warm, maybe—just maybe—Bucky could start to believe him.</p><hr/>
<p>
  <em>Steve</em>
</p>
<p>Steve wanted to march to DC and punch this Earth’s Steve Rogers in the face. Anger and rage roiled inside him after hearing Bucky’s tearful confession, and he felt so goddam pissed off that any version of himself would ever treat Bucky like that. Once, Steve would have said that it was physically impossible, but after confronting Doc Green and seeing the worst in himself brought out and twisted by grief, Steve sadly knew the depths of awfulness that he was capable of sinking to. Fresh guilt for the way he’d treated Bucky when he first arrived coursed through him, and he chastised himself for being so selfish as to put his grief first.</p>
<p>What sort of conceited monster had he become? <em>Oh, Bucky, if only you could see me now. </em>Steve dreaded to think what his Bucky would think of him. How he would berate him for the way he’d been moping and letting his sorrow cloud what was important; namely, saving the universe, and undoing the damage that this Earth’s Steve had caused Bucky.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0015"><h2>15. III . II . iii</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Thank you so much for your comments! I'm so glad you're all enjoying this story 💙💙💙</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <strong>III.II.iii</strong>
</p>
<p>
  <em>Bucky</em>
</p>
<p>Things definitely changed between Steve and Bucky after Bucky’s heartfelt confession. Steve was much more tactile with Bucky, choosing to sit closer to him again, asking to help with the cooking and joining Bucky on his leisurely laps of the compound rather than hiding himself away in the training room or disappearing for fifty-mile hikes of the surrounding area. Gradually, more of his personality started to shine through and Bucky began to notice subtle, but not unwelcome, differences between him and the Steve that Bucky had once known. It might have been down to their different experiences, but this Steve seemed more comfortable in his skin and far less like he had something to prove. Standing shoulder to shoulder with Bucky in the kitchen, covered in flour and carefully trying to fold up the parcels of homemade ravioli they were cooking for dinner, Steve looked content, and not at all like he was just waiting for the next mission. It wasn’t quite the blissful retirement that Bucky had once dreamed of, but it wasn’t far off.</p>
<p>Steve opened up about his time in the gamma world, regaling Bucky with stories about his counterpart and the dinosaur he’d somehow adopted. Bucky had to laugh at that; he wasn’t sure if he’d have been brave enough to try and tame an honest-to-god T-Rex, but he did always have a penchant for picking up strays in Brooklyn when he and Steve had been kids. He’d even picked up a cat somehow in Reims that had followed him around for a few months, until they’d been dropped into the Netherlands and he’d been forced to leave it behind.</p>
<p>Steve also dropped the bombshell that Strange had been the one to pull Steve and his Bucky from their home world.</p>
<p>“Through a portal?” Bucky asked.</p>
<p>Steve nodded.</p>
<p>“Like at Fort Meade? A… a fissure?”</p>
<p>“No. More like the circular portals that this Strange conjures.”</p>
<p>Bucky didn’t know what to say to that other than, “No wonder you look murderous whenever he enters a room.”</p>
<p>A gruff laugh rumbled in Steve’s chest.</p>
<p>“Why didn’t you say anything?”</p>
<p>“I told Banner.”</p>
<p>Bucky was surprised to hear that. “What did he have to say?”</p>
<p>Steve shrugged. “Just asked if it would be a problem. I had to give him the benefit of the doubt. The gamma world corrupted us all. This Strange certainly doesn’t seem as devious as the last, but…”</p>
<p>“You don’t trust him?” Bucky guessed. Steve looked uncomfortable, of course he did; only Steve would feel bad about harbouring mistrust after everything he’d been through. “Can’t say that I blame you.”</p>
<p>“I just wonder if he’s keeping something back. He clearly knows how to open portals between universes—or his counterpart did. I don’t know.” Steve shook his head, reluctant to voice any more concerns, and they went back to parcelling up the ravioli for dinner.</p>
<p>*✧･ﾟ:* ✧*:･ﾟ✧*</p>
<p>The breakthrough didn’t come until Shuri visited them a couple of days later. She gave Steve the stink eye as she breezed into the compound, despite knowing that he was a different Steve. She didn’t seem to care.</p>
<p>“If you hurt him,” Shuri waved a warning finger in Steve’s face, “you’ll answer to me.”</p>
<p>“Shuri!” Bucky protested and pulled her away from Steve to wrap her in a tight hug. Threatening Steve was exactly what Becca would have done, and it made Bucky’s heart swell. Shuri continued to glower at Steve over Bucky’s shoulder. Thankfully Steve didn’t seem to care, if his light-hearted chuckle was anything to go by. Bucky didn’t realise how much he’d missed that sound until he heard it again.</p>
<p>It was delightful having Shuri at the compound. She couldn’t stay long, but in what little time she was with them, she managed to cut both Banner and Strange down to size by fixing their equations in a nanosecond and inputting their algorithm into a programme she’d written which would search through the multiverse, conducting biometric scans that looked for duplicates. Most of the technical explanation washed over Bucky’s head, despite his recent bout of studying, and even the terms he did understand (<em>frequency hopping</em>, <em>electromagnetic beam</em>, <em>waveguide antenna</em>) were all used in ways he couldn’t follow along with. His head was pounding by the time they were even halfway through their conversation.</p>
<p>She explained that Wakanda had been working with the international space agencies to try and coordinate a worldwide project, but they’d been having difficulties convincing the various agencies of the severity of the problem. The science community at large wanted to hear nothing about infinity stones, despite the evidence of the 'blip' and the numerous documented recordings of the tesseract throughout history. Evidently, any attempt at a successful rescue mission was going to be up to them. She hooked up the compound to Wakanda’s satellites, and, finally, the signal was transmitted into the ether, accompanied by little pings of electromagnetic pulses to encourage the signal to beam out into parallel universes, too.</p>
<p>Strange still hadn’t figured out how to control the portals between worlds, even after Steve pressed that it was clearly possible, reminding Strange that he had first-hand knowledge that his counterpart was capable of it. But Strange gave the same answer he always did: they were “working on it.” At least, with the programme out there, collecting data—haphazard and random as it currently was—it finally felt like they were doing something. It would be days, possibly weeks before the programme finished running and they had any tangible results, but Bucky began to hope again.</p>
<p>Shuri promised them the use of any other tech they might need and agreed to stay for dinner. After spending the day with them, she’d warmed up to the new Steve, and once she learned about Devil she was full of questions about him. Steve laughed and smiled and tried to answer her questions as best as he could, looking genuinely happy for once. The traces of his once-permanent scowl had almost completely disappeared, and whilst the scars still criss-crossed his face, he looked less careworn and more open than Bucky had seen.</p>
<p>They dug into the Wakandan ful medames Bucky had attempted to cook in honour of Shuri’s visit, which Shuri found hilarious.</p>
<p>“It’s not bad, Barnes,” she conceded as she ate a mouthful. “Not sure it’s a ful medames, but it’s not bad.”</p>
<p>“Maybe a <em>half </em>medames?” Bucky laughed.</p>
<p>Shuri just levelled him with a look that indicated her distaste of the pun, but she couldn’t quite keep the amusement from shining in her eyes. “Just for that, I’m not going to come and visit you again,” she said loftily. “I was going to come back in a few weeks when I’m stateside again. Now, I’m not sure.”</p>
<p>“A quarter medames?” Bucky laughed, not letting it drop.</p>
<p>“You’re terrible, Barnes. Just terrible.”</p>
<p>“Well I think it tastes great,” Steve piped up. He glanced across at Bucky and smiled. For the first time it felt like Steve wasn’t smiling at a ghost; it felt like Steve was actually looking and smiling at <em>him</em>, unhindered by the memory of the Bucky he’d lost.</p>
<p>Bucky couldn’t help but grin back, and something bright and warm bloomed in his chest.</p>
<p>*✧･ﾟ:* ✧*:･ﾟ✧*</p>
<p>Despite the progress they were making, Bucky’s brain still felt like mush. He still felt like he needed to sleep eighteen hours and day, and anything more than a gentle jog left him with a blinding pain behind his eyes.</p>
<p>“Banner, what the fuck is wrong with me?” he demanded the day after Shuri’s visit. He’d barely been able to get out of bed before noon, and he was already falling asleep over their late lunch of grilled cheese and homemade tomato soup. He planted his elbows on the table and dropped his head into his hands.</p>
<p>“You had a bleed on the brain,” Banner replied. “By rights, you should still be on bedrest, super healing or no.”</p>
<p>“I can’t just sit around in bed all day.”</p>
<p>“Exactly, that’s why I haven’t forced you to. I did tell you to try and take it easy, though.” Banner put down his spoon and stared at Bucky with a critical eye. “Still getting headaches?”</p>
<p>Bucky nodded without lifting his head.</p>
<p>“How often?”</p>
<p>“Whenever I run, whenever I read, whenever I watch TV, whenever I think too hard,” Bucky listed off, ignoring the way Steve’s frown deepened with every word.</p>
<p>Banner listened carefully before nodding. “Okay. Cut back on your screen time. What kinds of things are you reading?”</p>
<p>Bucky mumbled his answer into his hand.</p>
<p>“What was that?” Banner looked across at Steve for him to decipher.</p>
<p>“Quantum mechanics,” Steve supplied.</p>
<p>“What?”</p>
<p>“Snitch,” Bucky mumbled. When he finally glanced up at Banner, he looked furious.</p>
<p>“Barnes. You should be limiting how much you’re reading at all for the first few weeks after a brain injury like that. Let alone reading it on your tablet—I’m guessing?”</p>
<p>Bucky nodded and Banner dragged a hand through his hair.</p>
<p>“Okay. I can’t tell you what to do, but it is my <em>strong recommendation</em> that you stop reading complicated scientific journals on a digital screen just <em>weeks</em> after suffering a brain haemorrhage.”</p>
<p>Bucky knew that. The first things he’d read up on after Darlene had brought him back his phone had been recovery times and treatments for an aneurysm. All of the medical websites had recommended reduced screen time, getting lots of sleep, and advised taking three months off of work. Bucky suspected that reading journals and trying to bring himself up to speed on eighty years of lost breakthroughs in physics probably fell under the category of ‘work.’</p>
<p>“Well, what <em>can</em> I do? You have me benched! Sam’s been missing for weeks now, I can’t sit around here and do nothing.”</p>
<p>“You’re recovering—” Steve tried to argue.</p>
<p>“Bullshit,” Bucky snapped back. “Like that would stop you. You’d march across the Saharan desert on a broken leg if you thought it would bring your Bucky back.”</p>
<p>Steve snapped his mouth shut. Bucky enjoyed precisely one second of smug pride before Banner came through with a rebuttal that gave him pause.</p>
<p>“You’re benched now because we’ll need you later, Barnes. I know you want to help and you’ll have to—once we figure out where to open the doors, who do think we’re going to need to send through them and fetch people back? We’re going to need you on point for that, and you’ll be of no use to us if you don’t rest up now and let your brain kick back into gear,” he argued.</p>
<p>Bucky frowned, stumped, and this time it was Steve’s turn to shoot him a smug smile. Bucky couldn’t deny the thrill of affection that it sent running through him.</p>
<p>“Fine.”</p>
<p>“You’ll limit your screen time?” Banner made him promise. Bucky looked up with a petulant glare, feeling considerably like a grounded teenager—at least, judging from all the TV shows he’d watched, he suspected that’s what it felt like to be grounded. It was a premise that hadn’t existed when he was a kid.</p>
<p>“Then give me some books at least, or something,” Bucky pressed. “Strange keeps mentioning that big library of his in the Sanctum, surely there’s something in there that I can read if you won’t let me read any screens.”</p>
<p>“I’ll ask,” Banner assured him and Steve gave Bucky a hopeful smile. It was weird, Steve being the optimistic one, but Bucky supposed he hadn’t really been pulling his weight in that department recently. He managed a smile in return and swallowed down some more soup before calling it quits and heading back to his room for a catnap.</p>
<p>What he needed to fix his brain was a good sleep. The problem was, he hadn’t been able to sleep properly since Sam had disappeared. To be more truthful, he hadn’t really slept properly since Steve had left, but at least before the events at Fort Meade, Bucky had been able to wear himself out and fall asleep that way. Now he tossed and turned, weary but restless in the dull windowless room of the compound. He lasted an hour of lying down trying to drift off before he gave in and trudged back to the common room. He was surprised to find Steve sitting on the couch with the TV on, watching the latest developments of the inquest.</p>
<p>They’d been following it loosely, in the small doses that Bucky could suffer through without wanting to punch his fist through the screen. Walker had testified about Ross’s mismanagement of the new Captain America programme, Clint and Scott had come forward to talk about the Raft, and old Steve had become more and more vocal and critical of <em>everything</em>. A clip from his latest speech, delivered on the steps of the Lincoln Memorial to a crowd of protestors gathered before him, was being picked apart by news anchors and talking heads. It was still a shock to see him looking so old, but at least he was finally speaking out and using his platform. It was the least he could fucking do.</p>
<p>His letter was still sitting in Bucky’s bedside table, unopened and burning a hole at the back of his mind, but Bucky still couldn’t bring himself to read it. One day, perhaps, but not yet.</p>
<p>“Is that really what I’m going to look like when I’m old?” Steve asked, glancing across at Bucky as he slipped onto the sofa beside him.</p>
<p>“Only if you’re problematic,” Bucky replied automatically, quoting one of the memes Shuri had sent him.</p>
<p>“I don’t know what that means.” Steve laughed. He reached for the remote and turned the TV off. “I guess I have to worry about living that long, first,” he added with a shrug.</p>
<p>“You don’t think you will?”</p>
<p>Steve shrugged and dragged a hand through his long golden locks. He usually wore it pulled back in a braid or a low ponytail, more recently in a bun at the back of his head, but today it was loose, falling around his shoulders and shining in the soft light from the afternoon sun. A shadow of sadness flickered across his face, a glimpse of the emotions he usually kept so guarded from Bucky, before he summoned a smile and gave another shrug. “I’m not sure. I never used to think so. With my heart, the doctors gave me forty years at most. Then there was the war, where I felt sure we’d be bombed in our beds. Then after the serum, Buck and I weren’t sure we would even age. The doctors said it would boost cellular regeneration…but I suppose,” he gestured to the TV. “I guess I will age. Never seemed to before, though. At least—Bucky never looked a day older than when we’d taken the serum. More stressed and tired maybe, but never older.”</p>
<p>“No,” Bucky agreed.</p>
<p>Steve turned to face him and searched Bucky’s face, like he was looking for wrinkles or signs of age. “Neither do you. And it’s been, what, eighty years?”</p>
<p>“I was on ice for most of that,” Bucky admitted; he still hadn’t given Steve the particulars about his time with Hydra. He might one day—but he wasn’t ready to go into that again yet. “Cryostasis,” he explained.</p>
<p>“Ah. Still.”</p>
<p>“Yeah. I guess it must break down eventually, though.” Or else how did you explain Steve’s decrepit appearance? Bucky just hoped his serum didn’t break down in the same way Bradley’s had. “Did you ever dream of getting old?” Bucky found himself asking instead of dwelling on that unpleasant thought.</p>
<p>“I used to. I used to dream of retirement, at least. During the war, Buck and I would make plans. And Doom promised we could live out days in Greenland as free men if I did as he asked, but…” Steve trailed off and screwed his face up in a frown. “That dream’s gone now, and it seems like there’s always another war.”</p>
<p>“Yeah.” Bucky knew that feeling all too well.</p>
<p>“You?”</p>
<p>“All the time,” Bucky admitted. “I thought Steve and I might grow old together, retire to a cabin by a lake or something.” He could picture it clearly in his mind, the dream that now lay in tatters. “Up in the mountains.”</p>
<p>“Sounds peaceful.” Steve gave Bucky a rare smile that he couldn’t decipher. Sunlight fell around him turning the blondest strands of his hair white. It looked soft and inviting and Bucky still itched to run his hands through it.</p>
<p>“Can I braid your hair?” Bucky blurted before he could stop himself.</p>
<p>Steve looked confused for a second before his smile dawned into something very recognisable as Steve’s look of delight.</p>
<p>“Sure. Do you need a comb?”</p>
<p>“Nah, we’ll be fine. D’ya want to sit?” He gestured to the floor by his feet and Steve dutifully shuffled onto the floor, leaning back against the sofa between Bucky’s legs.</p>
<p>Bucky ran his fingers lightly through the soft locks, delighted to find they were as silky as he’d imagined. He’d always loved braiding Becca’s hair, and he easily worked Steve’s hair into a loose French plait that gathered together in a neat line down the back of his head and fell between his strong shoulder blades. The motions were soothing and comforting and Bucky didn’t want to stop, so he let it loose again—like Penelope unravelling her tapestry—only to braid it back in a fishtail this time, then a Dutch braid. Steve clearly knew what Bucky was up to, but he didn’t mind.</p>
<p>“Can I see this one before you undo it this time?” was all he asked.</p>
<p>“Sorry.” Bucky flushed with embarrassment, but Steve just reached back to clasp his wrist and held on for just a moment, swiping his thumb across Bucky’s skin.</p>
<p>“It’s really okay. It feels nice,” Steve assured him. “Carry on.”</p>
<p>“Do you want the TV back on?”</p>
<p>“No, this is fine.” Steve let Bucky’s arm go, and Bucky could see in the reflection in the dark TV screen that he let his eyes close. He gave a soft hum and Bucky gathered the last loose hairs from the nape of Steve’s neck to weave into the plait. Bucky made swift work of plaiting the rest and then dug his phone from his pocket to take a photograph.</p>
<p>“There.” He showed Steve the thick golden braid standing out against his head.</p>
<p>“You’re good at that.” Steve took the phone and examined the picture, bringing a hand up to feel the plait as he did. “Did you, um—Bucky, my Bucky, had a sister?” Steve asked haltingly.</p>
<p>“So did I. Becca,” Bucky said, taking the phone back from Steve and moving to unwind his hair again.</p>
<p>“Did she…what happened to her?”</p>
<p>“As far as I can tell, she lived a good life. Got married, had kids, called them James and Lydia.” Bucky had read it all in her obituary. “The last time I saw her was in 1938, when she and my parents moved back to Indiana.”</p>
<p>Steve’s hand came up again, this time to entwine his fingers with Bucky’s and hold on tight. “I’m sorry,” he whispered quietly.</p>
<p>Bucky coughed the lump from his throat. “What about…your world?”</p>
<p>“I don’t know. I hope she’s safe. She and Bucky’s parents moved out west in 2008 before the war really hit, whilst it was still possible to travel. We lost contact with them.”</p>
<p>“08? So Bucky was…21?”</p>
<p>“Yeah, just turned,” Steve agreed.</p>
<p>Another multi-universal constant. “It’s odd, what sticks and what doesn’t,” he said. Steve just gave his hand a squeeze. “Do you think…do you think there are worlds out there without war?”</p>
<p>“I certainly hope so.”</p>
<p>“Will you go back, after all this?”</p>
<p>“Back where?” Steve asked.</p>
<p>“Home? Your Earth?”</p>
<p>Steve sighed and released Bucky’s hand before picking at the collar of his shirt. “I don’t know. There’s nothing there for me anymore. Not sure there’s a place for me anywhere, now.”</p>
<p>“You could always stay here.”</p>
<p>“Here?” Steve twisted a little so he could look up at Bucky.</p>
<p>“On this Earth.” <em>With me</em>. Bucky couldn’t ask for that yet. They were still tip-toeing around the idea of being friends. Bucky still had to work things out with the Steve in DC, but he was starting to think that maybe he could build a future with this Steve. Maybe, if Steve was open to it.</p>
<p>“Yeah?”</p>
<p>“There’s always space for you to make a home here, if you wanted to,” Bucky said gently.</p>
<p>“Thank you,” Steve said after a thoughtful pause. He opened his mouth to say something else, but whatever it was, he was rudely interrupted by a bright ring of orange circling through the air in a shower of harmless sparks.</p>
<p>Fucking Strange, he had the worst timing. Only this time, Strange wasn’t alone.</p>
<p>“Apparently you want books?” Wong asked without preamble.</p>
<p>“Yes?” Bucky said, trying not to glower at him.</p>
<p>“It is <em>highly </em>irregular for books to be allowed to leave the Sanctum,” Wong explained. “You damage them, I damage you—is that clear?”</p>
<p>“Crystal.” Bucky grinned.</p>
<p>“Then, I guess. Here.” Wong held out three leather-bound tomes that looked centuries old.</p>
<p>“I have to say,” Strange cut in, “I’ve read them each more times than I can count. I hardly see what you think you’ll be able to pick up on that I didn’t,” he scoffed.</p>
<p>Bucky didn’t deign to answer, instead hopping to his feet and scooting around Steve to take the books from Wong with a reverent touch.</p>
<p>“It’s not about picking up on anything new,” Steve argued for him. “It’s about a new perspective. Bucky may see things in a different light.”</p>
<p>Bucky glanced back to give Steve a grin before focusing back on the books and the foreign symbols that adorned their covers.</p>
<p>Strange just gave a harrumph and departed with a sweep of his cape.</p>
<p>“I’ll be back for them in a week.” Wong pointed from his eyes to the books, making sure Bucky knew he would be watching.</p>
<p>“I’ll look after them, I promise.”</p>
<hr/>
<p>
  <em>Steve</em>
</p>
<p>The portal closed and Bucky wasted no time setting the books on the coffee table and dropping to sit on the floor in front of them. Steve had to laugh at Bucky’s evident excitement; it was endearing. He was utterly absorbed as he turned the first page and began to pour through the words lettered there in a careful, bold hand. Steve watched for a moment before he pushed himself to his feet.</p>
<p>“Do you want any coffee?” he offered.</p>
<p>“Nah, I’m good.” Bucky didn’t even look up from the page, and Steve had to fight against a pang of nostalgia; he was reminded so sharply of his Bucky sitting cross-legged on the armchair by Steve’s bedside, twelve, thirteen, fourteen years old, engrossed in whatever latest fantasy adventure had captured his attention. Steve left Bucky to it and retreated across the room to start some coffee. He dragged a hand lightly across the thick braid that stood out at the back of his head as he went and recalled the gentle touch of Bucky’s fingers carding through his hair.</p>
<p>Could it be true? Was there space for him here to build a life when the chaos was fixed? Could he be so lucky that the universe would offer him a second chance?</p>
<p>There was still a myriad of problems to be fixed first. That was, if the problems <em>could </em>be fixed. A collapsing multiverse was a hefty challenge to face, but for the first time in a long time, Steve felt hope stir in his chest.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0016"><h2>16. III . ii . iv</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Lots of comic book science in this chapter, please just go with it 💙✨</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <strong>III.ii.iv</strong>
</p><p>
  <em>Bucky</em>
</p><p>Bucky lost time reading through the books. He was a sniper, used to lying in uncomfortable positions for extended periods of time, and he put that skill to good use as he sat crouched over the coffee table, ignoring the aches in his legs and his lower back, absorbing all of the details like a sponge. The books Wong had given him were nothing less than incredible. If they were true, they told details about the mechanics of the universe that Bucky had only dreamed of before.</p><p>Steve only coaxed him to stop reading long enough to eat dinner.</p><p>“It’s only mac and cheese. Sorry. I didn’t trust myself to tackle anything more complicated,” Steve admitted, looking adorably embarrassed as he pushed a plate in front of Bucky.</p><p>“Don’t apologise. I love mac and cheese,” Bucky grinned back. He wolfed it down and went right back to reading, moving to sit on the more comfortable sofa this time.</p><p>Distantly, he noticed that it got dark outside, and the automatic lights in the compound switched over to a softer light that was difficult to read by. When he found himself squinting and his head aching, Bucky carefully packed up and retreated to his room with the books, settling cross-legged in the middle of his bed to continue devouring the knowledge contained within them.</p><p>“Holy shit,” Bucky murmured under his breath as he read a passage on the formation of the infinity stones. “Holy shit,” he repeated and glanced up, bursting to share the revelation with someone, but finding himself face to face with a drab grey wall. “Holy shit.” Keeping the book held open to the right page, he hurried from his room and down the corridor to Steve’s room. He knocked rapidly and then barged in without waiting for an answer.</p><p>“Bucky?” Steve sleepily flicked on his bedside light and shuffled to sit upright, rubbing blearily at his eyes. He’d kept the plait in his hair, but it now looked mussed with sleep, and the loose strands around his face were a mess. His t-shirt was rucked wonkily across his chest, revealing more deep scars across his shoulder and stomach, and the sheets were tangled haplessly around his splayed legs. Bucky barely paid any attention to any of that, though, hurrying around to the side of the bed to thrust the book under Steve’s nose.</p><p>“The stones were <em>made</em>,” he said by way of explanation.</p><p>“What?”</p><p>“The stones were made,” Bucky repeated. Steve blinked at the book, then back at Bucky.</p><p>“What time is it?” he asked.</p><p>“I have no idea.”</p><p>Steve glanced at the clock by his bed. “It’s nearly 5 am, did you stay up reading all night?”</p><p>“But I found it, Steve. I think I found the answer, look.” He set the book gently on Steve’s lap and pointed to the page. “The stones were created by beings called the Celestials, look. Right back at the beginning of the universe.”</p><p>“We know that,” Steve said slowly. His voice was thick with sleep and his expression was hopelessly confused. “Strange told us that—well, Banner and I…”</p><p>Bucky arched an eyebrow. This was precisely why Bucky had wanted to be allowed to help. Steve and Banner were both incredibly smart, but they could be dumb as fuck, too, sometimes.</p><p>“Strange thinks that by destroying the stones, Thanos destroyed a building block of the universe, right?” Bucky asked. “Which is why things are collapsing? Because the stones—Time, Space, Reality, etc.—we need those to hold the fabric of the universe together?” he pressed on, waiting for Steve to correct him if he was wrong.</p><p>“That’s the working theory,” Steve agreed, starting to sound a little more awake.</p><p>“But energy can’t be created or destroyed.” Bucky could barely contain his excitement. “That’s the First Law of Thermodynamics. Thanos may have destroyed the stones, but he didn’t destroy their energy—he just released it into the universe. So, without the stones to harness that energy, it’s unstable and <em>that’s </em>what’s ripping the universe apart.”</p><p>“Okay.” Steve nodded slowly, but he still looked confused.</p><p>Bucky wanted to shake him and make him see; his own excitement was almost bubbling over. “But what if that energy was never <em>meant </em>to be contained in the stones? These Celestials,” Bucky jabbed—carefully—at the page, “they captured that energy. They used some complex spell to contain it within the stones.” Those parts of the pages were gibberish to Bucky, nothing more than complicated spheres and patterns, but he knew they would make sense to Strange. “For them to do that, that there had to be a universe that existed before the energy was captured, <em>therefore—</em>”</p><p>“—there must be a way for that energy to exist without the stones,” Steve finished. He blinked up at Bucky, the realisation finally dawning on his face.</p><p>“Exactly. We just need to find the spell to stabilise the energy.” Bucky grinned, but rather than sharing his look of delight, Steve’s face darkened. “What?”</p><p>“I knew Strange was keeping something from us. He must have known that. It took you less than a day to find that; he's been studying these books for years. There must be a catch.”</p><p>“Well, I mean. We don’t know what spell,” Bucky allowed. The concept of magic as an actual branch of science was still new to him, and if he hadn’t seen it in action during the battle against Thanos, Bucky wasn’t sure he would have ever believed it. But he was learning that the universe still had the capacity to surprise him in ways he could never have imagined. Who would ever have thought that one day Bucky Barnes would be proposing the use of magic to piece the universe back together? It wasn’t quite the flying cars he’d been hoping for in the future, but it was close. He scanned the page again. “I doubt it’ll be anything simple. But hey—this is a breakthrough, right?”</p><p>“Maybe.”</p><p>“You don’t look convinced.”</p><p>“I just don't know what to think.” Steve leant back against the headboard and dragged a hand through his bangs, fluffing them up even more. “I knew Strange was keeping something from us—but now I’m wondering why?”</p><p>“We’ll have to ask him that.”</p><p>“Yeah. In the morning though. Can’t see him taking too kindly to being woken up in the middle of the night,” Steve added with a slight smirk.</p><p>Bucky remembered himself then, and the tentative friendship that he was building with this Steve. He’d been so excited to share his discovery that he’d forgotten they weren’t quite at the barging-in-unannounced stage of acquaintance yet.</p><p>“Right. Sorry.”</p><p>“It’s fine,” Steve assured him with a smile. “Thank you for telling me. It’s definitely something, even if it’s not quite the whole answer just yet.”</p><p>Bucky nodded and closed the book back up, hugging it tight to his chest. “Yeah, I guess.” He suddenly felt very foolish. Steve was right, it was hardly a eureka moment, and it could definitely wait until morning before he bothered the others. “I should probably head back to bed.”</p><p>Steve’s expression softened and for a moment, it looked fond. Bucky almost thought Steve was going to say that Bucky should stay; he couldn’t pinpoint why he got that impression, nor would he have known how to respond, but when Steve eventually wished him a “Good night, or good morning” with another of his wonky smiles, Bucky couldn’t help but feel a little disappointed.</p><p>“‘Night,” he returned, managing to summon a smile before he slipped from the room and made the cold lonely walk back to his quarters and to his depressingly cold and lonely bed.</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p>
  <em>Steve</em>
</p><p>Steve couldn’t get back to sleep after Bucky’s outburst. He tried, but as he was usually up by 6 am anyway, there didn’t seem like there was much point. He threw the covers off and yawned into the back of his hand as he stumbled towards the bathroom. He caught sight of his reflection and realised his hair was still pulled back into the braid Bucky had given him yesterday, and he smiled at the memory even as he pulled it loose and ran his hands through it to detangle it before pulling it up into a bun at the back of his head.</p><p>He paused on his way to the kitchen, hovering outside Bucky’s door, overcome with an urge to crack the door open and check that Bucky was actually sleeping. However, he checked himself and continued towards the common area before he could act foolishly. Bucky excitedly sharing news with him was hardly an invitation to pry like that. They weren’t there yet, if ‘there’ was even anywhere they were heading to. Steve wasn’t sure if he wanted to be heading in that direction or not. Whilst this was indubitably <em>Bucky</em>, and whilst Steve longed to love him; there were as many differences as there were similarities between him and the man that Steve had vowed to love ‘in this life and whatever comes after.’ Steve couldn’t shake that. Even harbouring notions of moving on felt like he was betraying his Bucky, and it pulled Steve up short every time.</p><p>He switched on the coffee maker and started brewing a pot, staring out through the darkness to the empty grounds of the compound. The sky was still dark with night, and frosty dew clung to the tips of the grass, shining softly in the moonlight. It belied a sense of peace and calm that Steve knew was far from the truth; even now, reality was unravelling around them. So far, he hadn’t noticed many of the ‘glitches’ they talked about, but his very presence on this world was proof, wasn’t it? That reality was falling apart at the seams. Steve sipped at his coffee and mused over Bucky’s breakthrough. Could it really be that simple?</p><p>Banner didn’t think so.</p><p>Steve skipped his run to head straight into the lab, and a few hours later, a sleepy-looking Bucky joined them. The bags under his eyes were more prominent than ever, and Steve wondered how many sleepless nights Bucky had been having recently. He looked drawn and ill, even if his tone was one of excitement as he explained to Banner what he’d found in the book. Unfortunately, Banner seemed sceptical.</p><p>“I think that’s more of an…analogy for how the stones were made, rather than actual instructions,” Banner sighed.</p><p>“You don’t believe it? After everything we’ve seen? Tell me, have you ever seen anything like the stones or any scientific explanation that could account for them being natural? They were created!” Bucky argued.</p><p>“Okay, maybe they were,” Banner allowed. “But what’s to say that their creation wasn’t a fundamental part of the creation of the universe itself? There’s nothing to prove that the energy can be stabilised,” he countered.</p><p>Bucky floundered for a second before looking to Steve for support, or maybe for him to weigh in with his own opinion, Steve wasn’t sure. But the hopeful look in Bucky’s eyes stirred something deep in his chest.</p><p>“I think we need to talk to Strange, see what he has to say about all this. There must be a reason he didn’t bring it up earlier,” Steve said as tactfully as he could. He wasn’t sure how Banner ever summoned Doctor Strange, or how they communicated, Strange always just seemed to appear. Steve assumed some kind of ethereal crystal ball or something might be involved, so he was incredibly surprised when Banner simply picked up a phone to call him.</p><p>Immediately, a portal cut through the air to their left, and Strange stepped through, cutting the phone call as he did.</p><p>“You called?” Then he noticed the book in Bucky’s hands and his eyebrows arched. “Don’t tell me you’ve read through them already.” He looked a little impressed, and Steve’s chest swelled with pride for Bucky.</p><p>“Yeah. I have. And I want you to explain this.” Bucky shoved the open book towards Strange and explained his theory.</p><p>“That’s not news, Barnes. What exactly do you think I’ve been doing? Of course, I’ve been looking for a way to stabilize the energy. It just isn’t that simple,” he scoffed, arrogant and aloof as ever.</p><p>“There’s a spell, right here.”</p><p>“That’s nothing more than conjecture,” Strange said dismissively. “And that particular spell is meaningless. I mean it’s”—he waved his hand vaguely—“nonsense.” But as he spoke, his brow furrowed slightly, as if he’d been struck by an idea.</p><p>“But we have a time machine!” Bucky argued. “You could go back and see how they made the stones.”</p><p>Strange levelled him with a very condescending glare. “We can’t send someone back to the start of the universe, Barnes. It’s far too unstable. The Quantum Tunnel isn’t capable of travelling back more than a few decades without serious risks and repercussions.”</p><p>Bucky deflated, but Steve was struck by a different idea. Time.</p><p>“The energy was released, you say? We’re all in agreement on that now?” he asked, double checking before he voiced his idea. “When was this?”</p><p>“April, 2018,” Bucky supplied.</p><p>“Okay.” He nodded. It fit. “I was taken in October, 2019. What if, what if it’s linked?”</p><p>Suddenly, all eyes were on him. Steve dropped his gaze and tried to think. “The set-up in the Killiseum looked established, but there weren’t many other off-world prisoners on the gamma world before we were pulled through. That practise seemed fairly new. What if we’ve been looking at this all wrong? You”—Steve looked at Strange—“you say you can’t open portals between parallel worlds?”</p><p>“Not at present.” He held up a hand to show his sling ring. “This only works to cross the barriers between dimensions in this universe.”</p><p>“Right. To cross the barriers of the multiverse you need to bend more than time and space—you need to bend reality itself.”</p><p>“In theory.”</p><p>“And the energy from the reality stone is now loose in the cosmos,” Steve continued. He felt supremely out of his depth but his theory was starting to take shape in his mind. “What if you could draw from that? Use that energy to make the portal? What if that’s what the Doctor Strange in the gamma world figured out how to do?”</p><p>“Draw energy from the…” Strange started to scoff, but then he glanced back at the page of the book Bucky was still holding out to him. He peered down at the ‘nonsense’ spell and began to mutter under his breath.</p><p>Bucky glanced at Steve, looking concerned as Strange’s mutterings took on an eerie, manic tone. Steve shrugged, waiting to see where Strange was going with his idea.</p><p>“…Yes, you could…” Strange began to trace complex circles through the air, leaving threads of finely spun gold in their wake. He flicked the circles to his left and they flashed bright gold, illuminating the whole room with a blinding light. When it settled, a small window to another world hung in the air. Steve saw snow-capped mountains illuminated against a green sunset.</p><p>“Well, Captain. You’re not a dumb as you look,” Strange said before collapsing the portal in another flurry of golden sparks. “A glimpse through the multiverse.”</p><p>Before any of them had the chance to congratulate themselves, though, a terrifying screech sounded from outside.</p><p>“What in the hell?” Steve raced from the lab to the closest window and peered up at a tear that ripped across the sky. The sky on this earth was overcast and grey, but bright sunlight fell through, bouncing off the scaled wings of a pterodactyl that swooped across the sky.</p><p>“Holy fuck,” Bucky exhaled. “That’s a dinosaur.”</p><p>“Yeah it is,” Steve agreed. Fortunately, the pterodactyl swooped back through the tear just as it started to knit itself back together, dissolving away, leaving no trace that it had ever appeared.</p><p>“What was that?”</p><p>“That could be consequences,” Strange answered in a dark tone. “We’re messing with laws that we don’t understand. I need to do more research before we end up causing more damage than what we’re trying to fix.”</p><p>“Wait,” Bucky called out to him. “Wait. One of the stones controlled time, am I right?”</p><p>“Yes.”</p><p>“So, if you can draw from the reality stone, you can draw from the time stone, too,” he speculated.</p><p>“Theoretically.”</p><p>“Then we don’t need to send someone back to the start of the universe. We can just…open a window.” He grinned, though Strange didn’t look as happy. “See what spell they used and you can…figure out a counter spell?” Bucky trailed off, looking at Steve with a shrug. Steve shrugged back. It all sounded like nonsense; he couldn’t parse out the possible from the absurd anymore. He looked at Banner, who shrugged as well. The three of them were all equally lost.</p><p>“If any of that were possible, and that’s a big <em>if</em>,” Strange started, “I’m just one man. I’m not powerful enough to take on a spell used by the Celestials.”</p><p>Steve was pleased to see there was a cap on the man’s hubris, even if it was only when he compared himself to ancient, god-like beings. But he wasn't just one man...</p><p>“But you’re not,” Steve corrected. “You’re not one man. There are at least two versions of you with your skill. In an infinite multiverse, there must be hundreds more. The Guardians,” Steve grappled for the details he’d barely overheard, and which hadn’t made sense at the time, but which his brain was now piecing together for him. “They said they banded together to harness the Power Stone. Couldn’t you do something similar?”</p><p>Strange gave Steve a look that could only be called a glower before conjuring a portal and sweeping through without a backward glance.</p><p>“Was that a ‘yes’?” Bucky asked.</p><p>“I think that was an ‘I don’t know and I don’t want to admit that I don’t know.’” Steve huffed a laugh and shook his head.</p><p>“Well. This has certainly been an eventful morning,” was Banner’s only comment. “Science and magic and dinosaurs.” He sighed, shaking his head as he trooped back into the lab.</p><p>Which left Steve and Bucky alone, staring at each other perplexed by everything the morning had thrown at them. As soon as Banner had left the room, Bucky let out a snort of laughter he’d clearly been holding back for some time. “Science and magic and dinosaurs, oh my,” he added with a bemused expression. “Well, I think that’s enough saving the universe for one morning. I’m going back to bed.”</p><p>He certainly looked like he needed a good sleep.</p><p>“Try and actually sleep this time,” Steve urged him gently.</p><p>Bucky gave another snort and shook his head as he traipsed off down the corridor. “I’ll try,” he threw over his shoulder in response. Steve watched him go before joining Banner in the lab.</p><p>“Do you think it could work?” Steve asked Banner as he settled behind the holographic computer he’d become surprisingly adept at using.</p><p>“Honestly? I don’t know what to think, anymore.” Banner shrugged. “Last year, it was time travel, this year it’s magic spells. Who knows what’s going to be thrown at us if we ever make it into next year.”</p><p>Steve understood that feeling all too well. He gave a hum of agreement before getting sucked into the reams and reams of data being pinged back to them by Shuri’s program. Steve had painstakingly fed the profiles of the missing people into Shuri’s algorithm, and now they just had to wait for it to find a match. The computers handled most of the comparisons, flagging potential matches that needed a human eye to verify them. So far, they’d all been false positives, and as much as Steve wanted to remain hopeful, the rational part of his brain doubted they’d ever find a match this way. The multiverse was infinite, and what they were doing felt like searching rockpools whilst the whole ocean lapped out of their reach.</p><p>After a few hours with no progress, Steve took a break to make a round of sandwiches for everyone. He and Banner ate theirs with the news playing quietly in the background, more updates on the ongoing inquest and rumours over who the sitting President—President Ellis, not someone Steve had heard of from his Earth—was going to name as Ross’s replacement for Vice President. The talking heads were having a heated debate that Steve didn’t particularly care to pay attention to, so he tuned them out, focusing on the dreary day outside and the patch of sky that a pterodactyl had soared across earlier. It was only natural that his thoughts returned to Devil; he knew the creature would have no problems fending for himself physically, but they’d grown codependent over their years together in the Killiseum, and losing both Bucky and Steve in such quick succession was bound to cause some form of emotional distress. Devil had returned for Steve twice in the wilderness of the Badlands and the Barrens, and Steve hated the idea that Devil might still be searching for him and Bucky even now.</p><p>Bucky slept through lunch and well into the afternoon, but when the sky began to darken around 1630, Steve decided to check that he was okay.</p><p>“Bucky?” He knocked tentatively on the door.</p><p>“Come in,” came the reply. It didn’t sound particularly sleepy, and when Steve cracked the door, he found Bucky sitting on the edge of the bed with his head in his hands.</p><p>“Are you okay?”</p><p>Bucky didn’t answer for a beat, when he did it was only to shake his head.</p><p>“What’s wrong?”</p><p>“Can’t sleep.” He sighed, sounding frustrated. “I’m so fucking tired and I can’t fucking sleep.”</p><p>Steve ached to help. Whenever his Bucky had trouble sleeping, Steve would let him use his lap as a pillow and would card his hands through Bucky’s hair or trace patterns down his spine until he drifted off. His Bucky had always hated sleeping in an empty bed and was forever crawling into bed with Steve, even in the army barracks where it was strictly prohibited—Bucky had been delighted when Steve got his promotion to Captain and the private quarters the promotion had entailed. But none of that seemed appropriate here and now. “What can I do?” he asked instead.</p><p>“I don’t fucking know.”</p><p>“I think I saw some camomile in the cupboard.”</p><p>Bucky snorted. “Don’t think there’s enough camomile in the world.”</p><p>“Probably not.” Although it might work as a placebo, like coffee—which had lost its effect after the serum—it would only be useful if Bucky believed it would help. Steve fell silent, but he lingered, fighting the urge to just pull Bucky into his arms.</p><p>“Maybe,” Bucky hesitated. He glanced up at Steve but quickly flittered his attention away to the wall, instead.</p><p>“What?” Steve urged with as gentle a voice as he could muster.</p><p>“Maybe, you could stay?” He wrung his hands. “I’ve always hated an empty bed.” He admitted with such a fragile tone to his voice that Steve found himself crossing the room in two short strides to clasp his hands around Bucky’s.</p><p>“My Bucky was the same,” he said with a sad smile, giving Bucky’s hands a squeeze. “Of course, I’ll stay if you want.”</p><p>“Really?” Bucky glanced up and Steve was shocked to see how drawn and tired he looked up-close.</p><p>“If you want me to.”</p><p>Bucky’s lip wobbled and he nodded.</p><p>“Then scooch over.”</p><p>Bucky shuffled back onto the bed and Steve kicked off his shoes to climb in next to him, sitting up by the headboard and guiding Bucky to curl against his side. It felt so familiar, and Steve’s heart sang at the weight and warmth of Bucky’s body pressed against him. His hand immediately found its way to Bucky’s hair, brushing across the short strands at the back of his head and carding through the thicker tufts that were just long enough to start curling on top. The Bucky he knew had never worn his hair that short, always favouring long floppy waves of nineties grunge that fell into his eyes and curled around his jaw—he’d just learnt to style it better when they grew older and were expected to look more professional. The shorter cut served as a sharp reminder of who was in his arms, one that Steve was grateful for.</p><p>“How long since you’ve had a good night’s sleep?” Steve asked, letting his hand settle over the curve of Bucky’s head and letting his thumb drag in slow circles around the nape of his neck.</p><p>Bucky hummed pleasantly, practically a purr, and leant into Steve’s touch, wriggling to better mould his body around Steve’s. “April before last.”</p><p>“Since Steve left?”</p><p>“Yeah. I dunno why. Wasn’t like I saw him all that often in Wakanda, and I had no trouble sleeping then,” Bucky mumbled, already sounding sleepy. Steve kept letting his thumb drift over Bucky’s neck with a soothing pressure.</p><p>“The stress of it, maybe?”</p><p>“Pro’ly,” Bucky agreed. Although Steve suspected Bucky might have agreed with anything he said just then. “I know you’re not him.” Bucky’s words were slurred with sleep now. “You’re not just a replacement. I like you for you,” he said. The last words were fairly mumbled and a subtle change in the pattern of his breathing told Steve that he’d finally fallen asleep.</p><p>“I like you for you, too.” Steve leant forward to press a soft kiss in Bucky’s hair and kept tracing the soothing pattern with his thumb, determined to ensure that he finally got a decent sleep.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>💙💙💙</p><p>They're getting there. Slowly but surely. </p><p>There might be a slight hiatus before the next chapter, I need to work on my fics for the two bangs I've signed up for, and I really need to finish the next chapter of a Call to Motion soon as well! But it should only be for a couple of weeks. I have the next few chapters drafted, but they need editing and checking and then I need to get stuck into writing the rest. I still don't know how many chapters there will be in all, but I expect it'll be close to 100k when I'm finished.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0017"><h2>17. III . iii . i</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Thank you for your comments! So glad you're all enjoying this 😄💙</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <strong>
    <span class="u">III.III</span>
  </strong>
</p>
<p>
  <em>Science is magic that works.</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>- Kurt Vonnegut, Cat's Cradle</em>
</p>
<p>
  <strong>III.III.i</strong>
</p>
<p>
  <em>Bucky</em>
</p>
<p>Bucky was woken by the sharp buzzing of his phone on the bedside table as it vibrated with a call. He groped for it blindly and squinted at the screen before he answered.</p>
<p>“Hi Sharon,” he said, rolling onto his back and draping his arm across his eyes.</p>
<p>“Turn on the news,” she told him.</p>
<p>“What?”</p>
<p>“You’ll want to see this.”</p>
<p>“Ugh, yeah. Okay.” Bucky knew by now that it was best just to trust Sharon.</p>
<p>There was no TV in his room, so Bucky tucked the phone under his chin and stumbled down the corridor towards the common area, rearranging his boxer shorts and the t-shirt he’d been sleeping in as he went.</p>
<p>“What channel?” he asked sleepily, using the remote to flick on the TV, but he needn’t have asked. Steve had clearly left it on CNN last time he watched it, and the news must have been what Sharon wanted him to see.</p>
<p>“…there is to be a confirmation vote by both the House and the Senate scheduled for tomorrow…” the news anchor was saying. Bucky squinted at the information banner scrolling across the bottom of the screen to see what they would be voting on.</p>
<p><em>President Ellis nominates Gen. James Rhodes as vice president</em>.</p>
<p>“Holy shit.” Bucky gasped into the phone.</p>
<p>“Yep.” She sounded like she was grinning.</p>
<p>“Did you know this was happening?” Bucky was stunned, and genuinely delighted by the news. Next to the anchor, a headshot of Rhodey in his dress blues appeared, looking capable and determined as ever, and a wave of palpable relief washed through Bucky; maybe the country wasn’t doomed, after all.</p>
<p>“No. But it makes sense. He’s been working hard with Ellis to coordinate the re-build post blip, and he’s the only one handling this Ross fiasco with any sort of integrity. I never thought Ellis would go for it, though.”</p>
<p>“Yeah, seems far too sensible.” Bucky agreed. He slumped into the sofa, eyes glued to the TV as the info banner continued scrolling along the bottom. They both listened in silence until the anchor cut away to garner opinions from ‘political experts.’ “Any update on the inquest?” he asked.</p>
<p>“Not from my end. Has Bernie not been keeping you updated?” Sharon sounded concerned. It was nice to know she cared so much.</p>
<p>“She has. Just wondering if you had any insights.”</p>
<p>“None. Sorry. What about your efforts to save the universe? Banner made any breakthroughs?”</p>
<p>“Actually, it was Steve and I who made the breakthrough,” Bucky had the pleasure of bragging.</p>
<p>“Really?”</p>
<p>“No need to sound so surprised. But yeah.” Bucky fell back on the response that was becoming a running joke between everyone in the compound, adding, “We’re making progress.”</p>
<p>“Glad to hear it.”</p>
<p>She signed off and Bucky was left sitting in front of the TV, watching the cycle start over for the people who’d just switched on.</p>
<p>
  <em>“Brigadier General James Rhodes has today been nominated by President Ellis to succeed Thaddeus Ross as vice president. General Rhodes is best known publicly for his role as Iron Patriot. He was responsible for saving the life of President Ellis in the Mandarin attack in 2013, and was instrumental in upholding the Sokovia Accords during what was later dubbed the ‘Civil War’ between the two factions of the Avengers. Rhodes has since spoken out about the handling of the Accords and gave testimony earlier this week against former Vice President Ross. There is to be a confirmation vote by both the House and the Senate scheduled for tomorrow.</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>“In a statement made from the White House this morning, President Ellis credited General Rhodes with playing an ‘instrumental’ role in upholding society and protecting national security during the blip, stating that he was ‘delighted’ to be able to offer Rhodes this position and was looking forward to working alongside him for the ‘betterment of all Americans’. There were many who expected General Rhodes to receive the Democratic nomination in the post-blip election last November, and no doubt his nomination for the vice presidency will be well received. Rhodes’ nomination has also been welcomed by many Republican members of Congress, and it is expected that Rhodes will receive the majority vote from both the House and Senate when they meet tomorrow to cast their vote on the nomination.</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>“This follows the death of Vice President Ross, who was killed last month during an attack on Fort Meade. Ross was added to Ellis’ presidential ticket when Ellis ran for re-election last year, and was sworn-in in January. His ten-month tenure as vice president was embroiled in controversy, and the full-scale enquiry launched by President Ellis into Ross’ actions in Fort Meade has since revealed links to the Weapons Plus scandal. The inquest is on-going.”</em>
</p>
<p>Bucky noticed Steve enter the room during the announcement, but didn’t turn to greet him until the news reached the end of the segment and veered away to the latest news in sport.</p>
<p>“Wow,” Steve said. He was sweaty from his run and his face was flushed with exertion. He had his arms crossed as he gave the news his full attention, and beneath his arms, his chest was rising and falling rapidly as he recovered his breathing. “Way to go, Rhodey.”</p>
<p>“You knew him?” Bucky asked.</p>
<p>“In my world, yeah. He was in charge of the Iron Patriot Squads, we ran missions together a few times. He was a good man.”</p>
<p>Steve had started talking about everyone from his earth in past tense, but there was something about that particular phrasing that made Bucky ask, “Was?”</p>
<p>“Yeah.” Steve dipped his head briefly before meeting Bucky’s eyes. “He died in 2016. Shot down. I always wondered how the war might have gone differently if we hadn’t lost him then.”</p>
<p>“I’m sorry to hear that.”</p>
<p>Steve only nodded. He returned his attention to the news again, but Bucky didn’t think he was taking any of it in; his thoughts looked miles away. But then his expression shifted into something closer to a smile and he glanced back at Bucky.</p>
<p>“Have you had breakfast yet?”</p>
<p>“No.”</p>
<p>“Alright, well, after I’ve showered, how do you fancy pancakes?”</p>
<p>“I’ll never say no to pancakes.” Bucky returned Steve’s smile. “I’ll put some coffee on.”</p>
<p>Steve showered impossibly fast and padded back into the common area dragging a towel through his long blonde hair just as Bucky was pouring out two mugs of coffee.</p>
<p>“Smells good.” He inhaled the mug that Bucky handed to him. “Thanks. Did you sleep okay?”</p>
<p>“Like a log,” Bucky replied with pride. Steve had stayed to help Bucky fall asleep for the last couple of nights, ever since Bucky had mustered up the courage to ask him to. He’d curled himself behind Bucky, carding gentle fingers through Bucky’s hair and rubbing soothing circles into his back or his shoulder until Bucky drifted off. He was always gone by morning, and Bucky didn't know how long Steve stayed after he had fallen asleep, but he couldn’t worry about that, not when he finally felt refreshed and well-rested for the first time in two years.</p>
<p>“I’m glad.” Steve looked and sounded genuinely happy, and Bucky couldn’t help but smile. “So, what do we want in our pancakes?”</p>
<p>Steve’s skill at cooking dinner may not have extended beyond mac and cheese, but breakfast was another matter entirely. The pancakes he produced one after another were always golden and fluffy and, quite simply, it was heaven to sit and watch him flipping them over the stove. This was exactly the kind of domestic bliss Bucky had always dreamed of, and even if the world was going to hell in a handcart around them, Bucky let himself enjoy that moment.</p>
<p>*✧･ﾟ:* ✧*:･ﾟ✧*</p>
<p>The following day, they all gathered in the common room, glued to the coverage on C-SPAN of the confirmation vote, and watched with delight when Rhodey secured the majority he needed. It was bittersweet as they watched his swearing in a few days later, looking on through the TV screen as he stood at attention in his dress blues with his leg braces strapped to the outside of his uniform.</p>
<p>“Tony should have been the one to swear him in,” Banner muttered as they watched Rhodey’s former colleague and long-time friend (according to the C-SPAN caption) Lieutenant Colonel Allen holding the copy of the constitution on which Rhodey would swear his oath to uphold. “He’d’ve got such a kick out of it.” Almost subconsciously, Banner itched at the still fading scars that Bucky knew snaked up his right arm.</p>
<p>No one knew what to say, so they kept silent, watching a little in awe—at least Bucky was—as Rhodey gave a clipped, decisive speech about how much he was looking forward to improving the post-blip recovery efforts and building a country that everyone could be proud of.</p>
<p>“Fifty bucks says he’ll be the next president,” Steve piped up with a smile.</p>
<p>“No bet.” Bucky shook his head. “He’ll be president one day, for sure.”</p>
<p>Personally, Bucky had never thought there was much purpose or power belonging to the vice president, but within two days of Rhodey being sworn in, NASA had agreed to cooperate with the Wakandan Space Agency, both Banner and Doctor Strange were being consulted as experts for their knowledge of the infinity stones, and the glitches which had previously been ignored were now getting their consideration from the scientific community at large.</p>
<p>Three days after that, a contingent from NASA touched down on the helipad outside, and a team of capable looking engineers and astrophysicists led by someone called Monica Rambeau—who seemed to have a personal connection to Danvers—set up in the lab alongside Banner and Strange. They quickly took over the data handling work Steve had previously been doing, which he relinquished gladly, and Bucky suddenly found the pair of them with a lot more free time on their hands.</p>
<p>“Think you can handle a run?” Steve asked one morning, as Bucky slowly drifted awake and became aware of the soothing sensation of someone massaging his scalp. He cracked an eye open and saw that Steve was sitting against the headboard, legs crossed at the ankles and a tablet placed in his lap, but all of his attention seemed to be focused on carding his hands through Bucky’s hair. “The weather’s lovely—probably the last clear day we’ll get in a while.”</p>
<p>Bucky rolled over, causing Steve to drop his hand, and he blinked up at Steve, amazed to find that he’d stayed the whole night and surprised by how much that comforted him.</p>
<p>“What d’you think?” Steve asked. “We can take it easy.”</p>
<p>Bucky considered the state of his headache and found that after a slew of full nights’ sleep, it was noticeably improved.</p>
<p>“Yeah, I could probably manage a jog around the compound. I’m still pretty limited,” he wiggled his ankle with the flashing tracking band at Steve. “I won’t be offended if you get bored and decide to leave me behind.”</p>
<p>“I’d never leave you behind,” Steve promised with an odd sort of sincerity that Bucky decided was easiest to ignore.</p>
<p>“That means getting out of bed though doesn’t it?” he grumbled.</p>
<p>“That might help with the whole ‘going for a run’ part, yeah,” Steve laughed in response.</p>
<p>“Five more minutes?” he asked.</p>
<p>“Take as long as you like.”</p>
<p>“Mhmm.” Bucky rolled over to enjoy a few minutes of just lying in bed, but it wasn’t as pleasant as it had been before he’d fully woken up, and it took a few moments to figure out why. “Can you keep playing with my hair?” he worked up the courage to ask in a small voice, glancing up at Steve with his best attempt at a charming smile.</p>
<p>Steve didn’t answer, just picked up right where he’d left off, keeping his attention fixed on whatever he was reading. His mouth twisted into its own smile, though, and Bucky thought Steve looked happy to have been asked.</p>
<p>They did eventually make it out of bed, and about an hour later they were jogging in unison around the compound grounds through the crisp autumnal air. All around them the trees were turning golden with vivid hues of red and orange. It would be Thanksgiving next week; Bucky didn’t know where the time had gone, which reminded him that he really needed to finish his preparations for the meal he wanted to put together.</p>
<p>True to his word, Steve didn’t leave him behind, keeping his pace with Bucky’s sedate jog as they lapped the building again and again. With neither of them really out of breath, they kept up a conversation the whole time, swapping memories of Thanksgivings they’d enjoyed and marvelling again and again at how closely their memories seem to have overlapped.</p>
<p>They were on their sixth (seventh?) lap of the grounds when Banner called them back.</p>
<p>“We’ve got a match!” He grinned, brimming with excitement when they jogged towards him.</p>
<p>“Sam?” Bucky asked eagerly.</p>
<p>Banner shook his head. “One of the Xandarians,” he explained. “Perfect match and a strong lead on their location. Everyone’s in the lab for a strategy meeting.”</p>
<p>Steve and Bucky stopped by the kitchen to grab a bottle of water each before joining ‘everyone’ in the lab. Shuri, Okoye and Danvers were present as shimmering blue holograms, all already chatting in excitement with Monica and the other NASA engineers as Steve and Bucky entered with Banner. Strange arrived via portal a few moments later, looking distinctly less enthusiastic than everyone else, and moments later Thor, Rocket, and Quill’s holograms sprang into being in the centre of the room.</p>
<p>As soon as they had a full quorum, Danvers called up the holographic map of Xandar, and Shuri began explaining the calculated location of the missing woman and their plan to bring her back.</p>
<p>“Doctor Strange will open a portal to the right universe to allow our rescue team to cross through—but we can’t leave the portal open for a return journey. Which is where these come in,” Shuri explained, holding out what Bucky recognised as a Kimoyo Bead. “This is a Vibranium alloy, fused with metal shavings from a Sling Ring. I’ve been working with mages from the sanctum to create them. The vibranium captures energy from your outward journey and when you’re ready to make your return; simply activate them. They vibrate at just the right frequency to open a portal between worlds, which should allow you to come home.” She beamed, and Bucky’s heart swelled with brotherly pride.</p>
<p>“Sweet.” Quill’s hologram leant closer to inspect the beads on her palm.</p>
<p>“Should?” Thor crossed his arms and arched his eyebrow.</p>
<p>“Obviously, we’ve haven’t been able to test them in the field, but theoretically,” Shuri shrugged, “the math all checks out.”</p>
<p>“If you’re not back within 48 hours, Strange can open a second portal as a failsafe,” Danvers proposed. “Will that give you long enough?”</p>
<p>“Should do.” Quill bounced on the spot and cracked his neck from side to side, looking like he was eager to get going.</p>
<p>For the rescue missions in space, Thor and Quill had been chosen to lead point. Although the two of them always seemed at odds with each other, it was undeniable that they had the best knowledge of Xandar, The Garden and Knowhere. Rocket had tried to make the case for him and Groot to accompany them, but without knowing what lay in the parallel universes, it had been collectively decided that their presence might be cause for alarm. Instead, they’d hang back in reserve, in case anything went drastically wrong. Meanwhile, Bucky, Steve and Okoye were primed to lead the rescue missions on earth. Technically, Bucky still wasn’t allowed to leave the compound, but everyone seemed to agree that parallel universes didn’t count, and none of them thought his arrest was fair, anyway. Banner had written a program that would mimic Bucky’s tracking signal and make it look like he was still carrying out a normal routine if, or when, they needed his help.</p>
<p>“There’s one small problem,” Strange spoke up, after being oddly quiet through the briefing. He frowned and stroked his fingers across his goatee. “Creating a multiverse portal requires harnessing the energy from the reality stone. That energy is unstable and entirely unpredictable. Every time we meddle with it, it only grows more dangerous.”</p>
<p>“The pterodactyl,” Bucky muttered under his breath.</p>
<p>“Precisely. Opening a portal somewhere like Xandar, where there is already so much residual energy, will likely cause more problems than we’re trying to solve.”</p>
<p>“So, we need to find somewhere neutral to open the portals?” Danvers surmised, already spinning through the heat map of the cosmos before she’d finished speaking. There weren’t many green areas left.</p>
<p>“But we need some residual energy to create the portal in the first place,” Steve protested.</p>
<p>“A delicate balance,” Strange agreed.</p>
<p>“There.” Monica pointed to a spot on the map outlined with a faint orange glow.</p>
<p>“Svartalfheim,” Thor said before Danvers had even zoomed in on the map. “The aether—sorry, reality stone,” Thor corrected himself with an eye roll, “was stored there for centuries. But never used. At least not to my knowledge.”</p>
<p>“Looks like it should be stable enough.” Danvers scrolled through the data they’d collected on the planet. “What’s the planet like?”</p>
<p>“Dark. Desolate.”</p>
<p>“Inhabited?”</p>
<p>“Not anymore.”</p>
<p>“Perfect,” Rocket decided. “We’ll change course. Strange, you meet us there with those bead things. Then we’re golden.”</p>
<p>Bucky listened as the plan was ironed out. The Milano would redirect to Svartalfheim, and Strange would meet them there via portal to hand over the beads and coordinate with Rocket, standing by to re-open the portal if necessary. Meanwhile, Shuri, Banner and Monica would keep searching for the rest of the missing people, and Bucky was instructed to continue working on his recovery.</p>
<p>The journey to Svartalfheim would take approximately 26 hours utilising hyper-jump points throughout the galaxy, which gave the team plenty of time to worry about what sort of a world they might be walking into and how best to bring the woman back. Banner plugged scenarios into the compound’s clever AI system, but it quickly became clear that they’d couldn’t account for every eventuality, and the best course of action would be to play it by ear. Honestly, judging from what he’d grown to know of Quill, Bucky doubted that Quill would have been able to stick to a plan or strategy anyway.</p>
<p>“We’re making progress,” Steve whispered into Bucky’s hair as he traced calming circles onto Bucky’s spine before bed that night.</p>
<p>“Yeah. We are.” Bucky settled further into the pillows and focused on the movement of Steve’s fingers, letting it lull him to sleep with a hope blazing in his heart.</p>
<p>*✧･ﾟ:* ✧*:･ﾟ✧*</p>
<p>The first mission was a resounding success. The Kimoyo Beads worked perfectly, and exactly 14 hours and 27 minutes since they’d stepped through the glowing portal opened by Doctor Strange, Quill and Thor returned accompanied by a very relieved-looking Xandarian woman, who they were only too happy to reunite with her family.</p>
<p>However, the second mission—finding a man who’d been displaced from Knowhere—did not go quite according to plan.</p>
<p>Steve and Bucky were lightly sparring when the compound alert went off. The sound of it distracted Bucky, and he didn’t duck out of the way of a right hook like Steve expected him to. It socked him squarely in the jaw and sent him sprawling to the padded mats with a thump.</p>
<p>“Oh fuck, I’m sorry.” Steve scrambled to help Bucky to his feet, looking terrified that he’d hurt him.</p>
<p>“I’m fine.” Bucky assured Steve, rotating his jaw a little to check that nothing was broken and flicking a tongue across his teeth to make sure they were all still accounted for. They’d started sparring recently, which was both a blessing and a curse. Bucky had sorely missed the adrenaline rush and satisfying muscle ache of a good fight, and he was sleeping better than ever. But this Steve had a tendency to wear too-small shirts and trousers that clung unfairly to his hips and glutes, just like Bucky’s Steve had. With his long hair pulled back into a bun and spilling around his face, or braided down his back, and his chest straining against the confines of his shirt, Bucky was hopelessly distracted.</p>
<p>It didn’t help that this Steve had been trained in a very different kind of combat to the Steve Bucky had known. Fighting him was a thrill—Bucky was pushed right to the limits of his skill and Steve often got the better of him, pinning him to the mats with a twinkling gleam in his eye. If Bucky sometimes dreamt of that smile hoving above his face and their bodies pressed together, flushed, heated and sweaty, both fighting for breath? Well...Bucky was just grateful Steve had usually returned to his own bedroom by morning.</p>
<p>“What does that mean?” Steve asked, glancing around. The lights in the room had begun to flash red in the universal sign of warning.</p>
<p>“Guess we’d better go see.”</p>
<p>They didn’t even bother to un-tape their hands, they just ran through the compound until they found the source of commotion in the medical wing.</p>
<p>“Mother<em>fucker</em>!” Quill hissed and winced as he was manoeuvred onto a medical bed. “He shot me!” There was a blaster burn centred high on Quill’s chest, rapidly oozing blood, and another which had grazed the outside of his thigh. Banner and Strange were both bustling around him, speaking rapid fire medical jargon to one another.</p>
<p>“What happened? Who shot you?” Bucky asked.</p>
<p>“<em>He</em> did.” Only then did Bucky notice Rocket standing in the corner of the room, looking more amused than concerned.</p>
<p>“Who?”</p>
<p>“Quill. The <em>other</em> Quill. They ran into each other on Knowhere,” Rocket said.</p>
<p>“He thought I was a damn imposter.” Quill sounded indignant. “Ow!” He gave a yelp when Strange injected him with something for the pain.</p>
<p>“Stay calm,” Strange instructed. He must have laced the shot with a sedative because Quil slumped back into the pillows and Strange and Banner began to finally patch him up unimpeded.</p>
<p>“Did you complete the mission?” Steve asked Rocket.</p>
<p>“Yeah, we found the guy, Thor’s taking him home now,” Rocket answered as Strange and Banner worked to clean Quill’s wounds.</p>
<p>They didn’t seem phased about dealing with an injury from an alien weapon, and Quill was soon laid up to rest and recover. Banner consigned him to bed rest for three weeks, minimum. Quill griped about how he hated “not being immortal anymore,” which made little sense, and he proved to be an infinitely worse patient than Bucky had ever been. After just two days, Bucky found him trying to hobble into the common room because he was bored out of his mind. Giving him a tablet with headphones and introducing him to Spotify was the only thing that finally got him to settle down.</p>
<p>The only positive was that with Quill off-missions for the time being, it meant someone else needed to accompany Thor on rescue mission number three.  When the match came through a few days later, Bucky readily volunteered—desperate to finally contribute in a useful manner—and Banner and Strange both surprised him by agreeing that he should be the one to go. Bucky didn’t stick around waiting for them to change their minds; he ran straight for the armoury and began selecting the best discrete knives and weapons he could take with him.</p>
<p>Not knowing what they were walking into, they’d go dressed like civilians, but Bucky wasn’t about to travel across the multiverse unarmed. He was still sorting through the vast array of weapons on offer when Steve caught up with him. Steve picked up one of the blades Bucky had already examined and discarded, and stood turning it over in his hands in silence. Bucky spared him a glance, noticing the set of his jaw and the furrow in his brow that meant he was annoyed.</p>
<p>“What’s up?” Bucky prompted when it became very clear that Steve wasn’t going to volunteer to speak first.</p>
<p>“I hate this,” Steve admitted, gently setting the knife back down and finally looking up at Bucky. “I can’t stand the idea of watching you walk into danger.”</p>
<p>“There’s no danger. It’s a rescue mission.”</p>
<p>“You’ll be walking into an unknown parallel universe, there’s untold danger!” Steve protested.</p>
<p>Bucky rolled his eyes and moved over to examine the selection of handguns.</p>
<p>“I feel like I ought to be coming with you.”</p>
<p>Honestly? Bucky was very surprised that Banner and Strange had both agreed on sending him for this mission over Steve, and he was a little disappointed that Steve wouldn’t be accompanying him.</p>
<p>“You have to stay here, in case we get a match on earth. Besides, you know it’s risky sending more than two people through.” They didn’t want to put all their eggs in one basket. If everything went FUBAR, then it was better to only lose two operatives.</p>
<p>“I know. Still doesn’t mean I hate it any less.” Steve wrung his hands as he watched Bucky stockpile a selection of weapons which could be discreetly hidden about his person. “Promise me you’ll be careful? Don’t do anything stupid?”</p>
<p>“That’s rich, coming from your stupid ass.” Bucky glanced up to smirk, but when he saw Steve’s anguished expression, his smirk fell. They’d fallen into an easy rapport with one another, and it was sometimes easy to forget that Steve was grieving the very recent loss of his own Bucky, his warbound. “I promise I’ll be careful,” Bucky said with sincerity. “C’mere.” He pulled Steve in for a hug and gave him a reassuring squeeze. When he went to pull back, Steve fisted his hands in Bucky’s sweatshirt and clung tightly for a little longer.</p>
<p>“I don’t know what I’d do if I lost you, too,” Steve whispered, so quietly Bucky wasn’t sure he was meant to have heard it. He stilled, and an icy chill flooded his chest. He’d been so excited to finally have the opportunity to do something useful that he’d never stopped to consider Steve’s feelings before he volunteered.</p>
<p>“I’m sorry.” Bucky’s sweatshirt felt thick and constricting. “I didn’t think. I should have asked you first.” He considered it from Steve’s perspective, and tried to imagine how he would feel if Steve was the one going in his place. He’d been too wrapped up in the desire to do something useful that he hadn’t considered how it would feel if he had to stand back and let Steve walk into danger without being there to watch his back.</p>
<p>“No, Buck, no. You don’t need my permission—”</p>
<p>“Not permission,” Bucky agreed. “But I should have talked to you about it first. I should have considered your feelings.” Like Steve should have spoken to Bucky before deciding to go back to nineteen-forty-whatever. Like Bucky should have talked to Steve before deciding to go back into cryo in Wakanda…maybe that was when things had started to go wrong. No. Bucky shook that thought from his head and smiled up at the Steve before him. “Okoye’s better suited for this mission than I am, anyway. And I’d like to be ready in case there’s any news on Sam.”</p>
<p>“Bucky…” Steve shook his head.</p>
<p>“It’s okay Steve.” Bucky pulled him close for another hug. “I don’t want to lose you either. I don’t need to do this.”</p>
<p>Okoye wasn’t recovering from a head injury or still stricken with grief; she should have been the obvious choice for the mission, anyway. A successful mission was more important than his pride. Besides, Bucky didn’t mind hanging back and feeling useless for a little longer if it wiped that heartbreak from Steve’s expression.</p>
<p>*✧･ﾟ:* ✧*:･ﾟ✧*</p>
<p>Okoye looked <em>thrilled</em> at the prospect of going into space. Actually, that didn’t quite describe the utter delight that shone from her eyes when Bucky proposed she take his place. She was less enthused about the prospect of working with Thor—but from the tales Bucky had heard from the snap and how Thor had retreated into himself, like Steve had, leaving Okoye and Natasha to pick up the slack, perhaps that wasn’t wholly surprising. Thor seemed much happier in himself than Bucky had been led to expect, though. Maybe it was the sense of purpose these rescue missions had given him again, or maybe he’d just gotten better at hiding his grief. Either way, Bucky didn’t think it was polite to pry.</p>
<p>But for all of her wariness, when Okoye and Thor returned triumphant a few days later, they were both in high spirits and much more at ease in one another’s company. And, when the ping for the next match came through just days after that, the pair of them geared up to go with an eager haste.</p>
<p>Bucky smiled as he watched them step through the portal and then glanced back at Steve, who was sitting in a swivel chair monitoring readings on a holographic screen, and gave him a broad smile, too. Steve’s face glowed in the soft blue light and his eyes danced behind the screen. Bucky felt an odd flutter in the depths of his chest that he hadn’t felt stir for a long, long time.</p>
<p>*✧･ﾟ:* ✧*:･ﾟ✧*</p>
<p>Thanksgiving came and went. It didn’t feel right to celebrate until all of the missing people had returned, so Bucky put the dinner on hold. When Sam was back, <em>then</em> they could celebrate. He kept working on perfecting individual parts of the meal in order to distract himself in the meantime. He searched high and low for the asparagus swiss side dish his ma always used to make, but couldn’t find one anywhere that tasted even half as good. Steve and Banner didn’t seem to notice they were getting endless Thanksgiving side dishes incorporated into their evening meals, but then with more people now permanently based at the compound, dinner had become more of a potluck affair.</p>
<p>The NASA engineers had set themselves up in one of the barracks houses adjacent to the main compound and were sorting their own meals, but leftovers sometimes made their way into the common area kitchen, and whenever Bucky baked sweet treats, they were snapped up by everyone. Quill, especially, had a sweet tooth, and also annoyingly strong opinions about what should be included in Bucky’s planned Thanksgiving menu. But seeing as the guy hadn’t celebrated Thanksgiving in about 30 years, Bucky was willing to give him a pass. He just wished Quill would stop backseat-cooking, especially when he had the tendency to suggest Bucky throw in some ridiculous alien ingredient that Bucky had never heard of and was quite certain couldn’t be found in this galaxy.</p>
<p>He did have some amazing stories about space—most of which Bucky assumed were heavily embellished—and he made sure to bring Bucky’s knowledge of 80s pop culture bang up to speed, introducing Bucky to some great movies he would never have considered watching by himself. But Bucky was endlessly grateful when Quill was given the all-clear to rejoin the crew on the Milano and he got to enjoy some peace and quiet in the compound again. Steve also seemed glad to see the back of him, though he would never openly admit to it. But he stopped mysteriously vanishing to the gym at all hours of the day after Quill had left.</p>
<p>It was another week of tense waiting around until the signal bounced back with a match. With nothing else to do, Bucky had been spending more and more time with Steve and Banner in the lab. He had so many questions about how all of it worked and knew he must be bugging Banner to no end with his boundless curiosity, but he couldn’t bring himself to stop, it was all so fascinating. He was starting to get a grip on all of the complicated readings, and whilst there was still so much he didn’t fully understand, it didn’t take a genius to figure out what the blinking blue dot on the map of earth meant.</p>
<p>“Is it Sam?” he asked with bated breath. There were 5 others missing from earth, it could have been any one of them…</p>
<p>“Yeah. We found him.” Banner grinned.</p>
<p>Bucky’s stomach flipped in triple somersaults. They’d found Sam at long last. He didn’t know if he wanted to jump for joy or sink deep in his chair and let himself melt into a puddle of relief. In reality, he didn’t have time to do either.</p>
<p>“Gear up,” Banner instructed. “You and Steve can take this one.”</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>ps, I drafted this before Wanda Vision came out, so Monica's role isn't going to be exactly canon compliant, but then this doesn't fit with what's actually happening in FATWS either 🤷</p>
<p>and YAY! that finally found Sam 😄😄 Told you we'd get him back eventually 😉 next chapter should be ready in another couple of weeks.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0018"><h2>18. III . iii . ii</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Thanks for all of your comments 💙💙💙 so glad you're all liking this story!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <strong>III.III.ii</strong>
</p>
<p>
  <em>Bucky</em>
</p>
<p>“Look sharp,” Steve said as they crossed through the portal and into the unknown. Bucky sucked in a deep breath and braced himself for the transition that felt dizzying, like thinking there was an extra step at the top of a staircase and falling through nothing for a moment until your foot hit the ground. The portal sewed itself up behind them with a zip of orange sparks, and Bucky reflexively glanced over his shoulder to find not the interior of the spaceship they’d left behind, but a clear, empty road that evidently belonged to New York in the fall. The trees were crisp and orange—the ones that weren’t bare, anyway—and a carpet of crunchy leaves lined the sidewalk. The sky was overcast with a fleecy grey blanket of cloud that hugged the tops of the buildings. Puddles of rainwater pooled in the dips of the blacktop and between the cracks in the paving stones, and Bucky inhaled the slightly stale smell of a city after a downpour. Across the two centuries he’d lived in, it was a smell that hadn’t changed. It smelt like home.</p>
<p>Bucky sensed no immediate danger, but he flexed his left hand by his side and mentally catalogued where he’d hidden his knives, just to be safe.</p>
<p>“C’mon, he should only be a couple of blocks away.” Bucky pulled himself together and focused on the tracker embedded into the Kimoyo Beads on his wrist. A steady stream of cars crossed the end of the side street, and they passed a few pedestrians bundled in warm outer jackets and scarves as they followed the tracker for a few blocks. The fashions looked very similar to what Bucky had grown used to in the twenty-first century, and the place seemed settled and at peace, world’s away from the chaos and uncertainty that had lingered after the snap. It was the New York Bucky <em>wished</em> he could have returned to with his Steve, and as Bucky glanced up at the Steve who walked beside him, he saw the same nostalgic and wistful longing in his expression.</p>
<p>They followed the flow of people for a few blocks until they came to a row of brownstones that looked homely and inviting. The sunlight glanced off their window panes and bikes were chained to some of the railings and perched halfway up the wide stone steps that led from the sidewalk up to the raised front doors.</p>
<p>“Any idea which one?” Steve asked as he glanced down the street.</p>
<p>“Nope.” Shuri’s tracking wasn’t <em>that</em> accurate, but considering the signal had bounced through multiple universes, narrowing it down to a one-block radius was pretty fucking phenomenal, Bucky thought.</p>
<p>“Should we start knocking?” Steve asked, but even as he spoke, they spotted a figure approaching from the other end of the street, laden with paper grocery bags. A figure who was instantly recognisable.</p>
<p>“Sam!” Bucky gasped. Half of him was desperate to run barrelling into him and tackle him with a hug, but he managed to hold himself back. There was no telling if this was <em>his</em> Sam and whether he’d even recognise him.</p>
<p>“Wait.” Steve placed one of his large hands on Bucky’s shoulder to hold him back, and Bucky was grateful for it. He was practically vibrating on the spot as they watched Sam fumble inside his jacket pocket for his keys and climb the steps of a house down the street.</p>
<p>They gave him a cursory few minutes before heading for the house. It was highly likely it wasn’t the right Sam, but Bucky could only hope he’d have some information to share with them. They paused by the doorway and Bucky scanned the names on the intercom, spotting ‘Wilson’ listed halfway up next to the number ‘3.’ He buzzed it and waited on tenterhooks for Sam to answer.</p>
<p>“Hello?” Sam’s voice came through the intercom.</p>
<p>“Hey, it’s Barnes, open up,” Bucky said with feigned confidence.</p>
<p>“Barnes? Sure, c’mon up.” Sam sounded surprised, but he evidently knew Bucky, which was a start.</p>
<p>The door buzzed as the lock retracted and Bucky shrugged at Steve before they pulled it open and stepped inside. Two doors opened off the narrow hallway, bearing a golden ‘1’ and ‘2’ respectively, so Bucky headed for the stairs. He tensed as a door above them opened, remembering how Quill’s counterpart had shot him and forcing himself to prepare for any eventuality. He quashed the urge to draw a weapon in readiness, though; from everything they’d seen so far, this world looked peaceful. Still, when Sam stepped out onto the small landing and gave a laugh of delight, relief flooded through Bucky. He let some of the tension seep from his body and scrutinised the man before him, trying to discern if he was looking at Sam or his multi-verse doppelgänger.</p>
<p>“It <em>is</em> you!” Sam grinned. He ran forward to meet Bucky at the top of the stairs and pulled him into a hug. He’d changed, Bucky noted, the black sweatpants were totally different to the light wash jeans he’d been wearing outside—unless. . .</p>
<p>“Sam?”</p>
<p>Unless there were <em>two</em> Sams in this apartment building. No sooner had the realisation crossed Bucky’s mind than a second Sam appeared in the doorway. The one in light wash jeans that they’d spotted on the street.</p>
<p>“How the fuck did you find me?” Sam grinned, stepping back to grin at Bucky. Bucky blinked between his friend and the new Sam standing behind them in the doorway to the apartment. It was dizzying, seeing both of them at once. They looked identical, apart from a slightly different cut of the other Sam’s beard. Wilson, Bucky decided to mentally call him, to stop himself from getting hopelessly muddled.</p>
<p>“With science magic,” Bucky answered, a little distracted and confused at seeing two Sams at once before the weight of that realisation washed over him and he gripped Sam tighter in his arms. “You’re okay?”</p>
<p>“Yeah, I’m fine.” Sam grinned and then his expression turned to one of shock as he spotted Steve lurking on the stairs behind Bucky. “<em>Steve?!</em> What the hell happened to you?”</p>
<p>“Different Steve,” Steve answered before Bucky could find the words to begin explaining. “But it’s good to meet you. Both of you.” He offered a hand for Sam to shake, which he did—looking very bemused—and then to Wilson, who looked equally baffled by the whole situation.</p>
<p>“Well, I guess you’d better come in. Good job I just bought groceries,” Wilson added, eyeing the height and build of Steve. “Coffee, anyone?”</p>
<p>“Coffee sounds great.” Steve followed Wilson inside, which left Bucky and Sam standing on the landing. Sam really did look fine and Bucky felt he could breathe easy again for the first time since the portal had opened over Fort Meade.</p>
<p>“I was so worried.” He pulled Sam into another hug, ignoring Sam’s protests. “I thought you’d died.”</p>
<p>“Thought you didn’t care,” Sam quipped back which made Bucky grin. He gave Sam another squeeze and clapped his hand on Sam’s shoulder before pulling back.</p>
<p>“What happened?”</p>
<p>“Come on in and I’ll tell you—oh!—and I want you to meet Riley.”</p>
<p>“Riley?” Bucky’s eyes blew wide.</p>
<p>Sam’s expression turned bittersweet for a moment, before his smile washed over it, lighting his face with joy. “C’mon, I’ve always wished you could meet him.”</p>
<p>Bucky felt a lump forming in the back of his throat and nodded, not trusting himself to speak. Sam had opened up to him about Riley one night in New Orleans as they sipped beer on Sam’s sister’s porch and watched the fireflies dance around the backyard. It had crushed Bucky to hear what had happened and how fucking unfair it had been for Sam to lose Riley the way he had.</p>
<p>Sam slung his arm around Bucky’s shoulder and steered him inside the apartment where Steve was already being introduced to a sandy-haired man with a warm and welcoming smile on his face. He was immediately recognisable as the man Sam had pictures of all over his apartment, but his hair was longer; free of the military regulation length, it swept across his forehead and dark blonde stubble covered his jaw.</p>
<p>“Wait, Steve <em>Rogers</em>?” Riley was saying. “No way. There’s no way you’re a version of Stevie Rogers. What, did you drink a bottle of miracle-gro as a kid or something?” He laughed with his broad North Carolina accent.</p>
<p>“Something like that.” Steve laughed in return.</p>
<p>“And Bucky! Hey man, it’s real good to meet you. Now, you look more familiar.” He laughed again and stepped up to give Bucky a hug. His laughter died on his lips when he realised Bucky’s left arm was a firm and unyielding prosthetic, but he didn’t comment on it, he just gripped Bucky a little tighter before he pulled back. “Seems like you two’ve been through the wars.”</p>
<p>Bucky was too overwhelmed by everything to answer, so he simply gave a tight smile.</p>
<p>“Are you here to take Sam home?” Wilson asked.</p>
<p>“We don’t have to leave right away though, do we?” Sam cut in, clearly eager to stay a little longer. Bucky couldn’t blame him.</p>
<p>“Not right away,” Bucky promised. They had forty-eight hours before Strange or Banner would start worrying about them, and he was curious. “You know Steve and Bucky in this world too?” Bucky was unable to keep the hopeful, inquisitive tone from his voice. “I’d love to meet them—if we have time?” He shot Steve a questioning look.</p>
<p>“They live just a couple of blocks away. I’m sure they’d want to meet you too—Sam’s been feeding them all sortsa stories.” Riley smiled.</p>
<p>“Has he now?” Bucky arched an eyebrow at Sam who shrugged unapologetically. “So, you’ve been here the whole time? Living it up with your multiverse counterparts whilst we’ve been worried sick about you?” He was glad, though, and so utterly relieved that Sam hadn’t been subjected to some gamma hell world like he’d feared.</p>
<p>“I mean it wasn’t <em>all</em> sunshine and roses.” Sam grinned back.</p>
<p>Wilson went to put some coffee on, and Riley went to call that Earth’s Steve and Bucky to see if they’d be interested in meeting up, whilst Sam regaled them of his tale of the past few weeks.</p>
<p>He’d crashed through the portal just outside the perimeter of this world’s Fort Meade, busted a few ribs in the fall, and been arrested for trespassing. Luckily, this world seemed a lot more forgiving, and with it being so close to Halloween, the police put his ‘costume’ down to a prank and packed him off to the hospital to get patched up. After giving his name as Sam Wilson, the hospital had found him in their database and called Riley as his next of kin. Sam had been delirious on painkillers when a very confused Riley came to pick him up, and had been even more confused when he came face to face with Wilson sitting in the car parked outside.</p>
<p>It was only because on this Earth Wilson was an astrophysicist working at Stark Industries, and had done his doctoral thesis on the possibility of parallel worlds, that the pair of them didn’t haul Sam back into hospital and have him thrown in the psych ward. Instead, they’d taken him home, calmly listened to everything he had to say over gallons and gallons of coffee, and promised they’d start working on a way to get him home. He’d been staying with them ever since, having a very surreal time working with Wilson, Stark and that Earth’s Bucky to try and understand how the portal had been created.</p>
<p>Apparently, this world’s Bucky Barnes—who tended to go by ‘Jamie’ to everyone except Steve (or ‘Stevie,’ as everyone was calling him)—also worked for Stark in aeronautical engineering, which is how the four of them knew each other. Jamie had never been to war. Never been brainwashed or tortured, never killed anything with his bare hands. As the conversation wore on Bucky, grew more desperate and more anxious to meet him and see what his life might have turned out like if it hadn’t been so thoroughly derailed by WW2.</p>
<p>They wound up with an invitation to dinner that evening, and Bucky found himself fretting.</p>
<p>“It’s okay.” Steve gave Bucky’s metal hand a squeeze as they shrugged on their jackets and borrowed hats and scarves to head over to the Barnes-Rogers household—which was another surprise. On this earth, Jamie and Stevie were about to celebrate their third wedding anniversary. It made Bucky’s heart ache even more for what he’d lost. “They’re gonna love you.”</p>
<p>“I hope so.” Bucky forced himself to meet Steve’s eyes and smile back. Steve had been pretty quiet and reserved all afternoon, listening intently to all of Wilson and Riley’s stories about their earth with a delighted look on his face.</p>
<p>“I wonder what they’re gonna make of <em>me</em>,” he added in a small voice, letting just a hint of nerves creep into his expression. In a world without Captain America, without any sort of superheroes—as far as Bucky had been able to glean—then what indeed?</p>
<p>“They’re gonna love you, too,” Bucky assured him.</p>
<p>He’d assumed Riley had been exaggerating when he said they lived just a couple of blocks away, but it turned out they really did—two streets over, in another leafy brownstone with a Harley-Davidson chained to the railing outside. Bucky let out a low whistle and resisted the urge to run his hands across the top of it.</p>
<p>Sam snorted at him as Bucky’s fingers flexed by his thigh. “Thought you’d like that. Yeah, it’s Jamie’s.”</p>
<p>“Sweet,” Bucky replied letting his eyes linger over the black gloss and chrome finish.</p>
<p>Riley tapped in the code to unlock the front door—making Bucky’s heart swell to see how close friends they were and the implicit trust of that simple act—and they trooped towards the door to a first-floor apartment. The door was flung open before Riley had even finished knocking by a youthful-looking Bucky Barnes. Bucky stopped his tracks, feeling like he couldn’t breathe. Jamie’s hair was cut short at the sides but grew long enough on top to curl across his forehead. He had two big dimples in his cheeks as he smiled and ushered them inside. It was like looking in a mirror of himself from eighty-odd years ago. His eyes were bright and hopeful, and his smile was full of easy-going charm.</p>
<p>“Come in, come in, you’re letting in a draft!” Jamie beamed at them, herding them all across the threshold and into the small and cosy little apartment.</p>
<p>It looked nothing like the old tenement rooms Bucky and Steve had shared before the war, but it <em>felt</em> the same. There was a comfortable looking sofa with overstuffed cushions buried under an array of pillows and throw blankets. Books, notebooks, stray pencils, discarded sketches and abandoned knitting covered the coffee table and surfaces in the room. The window sills were filled with potted plants trailing green leaves and vines and the walls were filled with a chaotic mix of framed photos, artistic paintings, engineering diagrams and sci-fi posters, which should have clashed, but instead felt charming. It smelt like home, too, that smell that Bucky couldn’t describe in words but had stayed with Steve since before the war, and it made Bucky stop in his tracks, overcome with homesickness.</p>
<p>“I’m told you go by Bucky?” Jamie asked, giving another wide and welcoming smile as he beckoned Bucky further into the room. Bucky could only nod. “I’m Jamie, pleased to meet you. And . . . you must be Steve?” He gawped up at Steve looking a little overawed. “Riley warned me you were . . . taller, but . . . that’s . . .” He was lost for words and flushing slightly with an obvious attraction.</p>
<p>“Stop drooling over him, Buck. I’m right here,” Stevie huffed from behind Jamie. He was grinning, though, when Jamie stepped aside to let him through. Bucky had forgotten just how small Steve had been before the serum, or maybe it was just the sight of him juxtaposed against his post-serum self that brought it into perspective. The top of Stevie’s head barely came up to Steve’s shoulders, and one of Steve’s biceps was about as wide as Stevie’s waist. He was wearing glasses, which Bucky had never even considered on him, but they suited him: tortoiseshell rims that framed his bright blue eyes and paired well with the golden blonde hair flopped across his forehead. Like Jamie’s, it was long on the top and shorter on the sides, textured with some sort of styling product and he was clearly in the habit of running his hands through it. He looked good, so good. Healthy, confident, and he and Jamie were so clearly besotted with each other that it made Bucky’s heart swell with vicarious joy.</p>
<p>“Dinner’s right ready so come on through,” Stevie informed them.</p>
<p>“It’s my ma’s pot pie, I hope that’s okay,” Jamie added.</p>
<p>“More than,” Bucky assured him, whilst his stomach churned itself into complicated knots.</p>
<p>“It’s never as good as when she makes it, I’m sure there’s a secret ingredient she’s holding back from me.”</p>
<p>Bucky didn’t miss the way Jamie was speaking in present tense.</p>
<p>“She’s . . . alive?” His voice trembled as he asked.</p>
<p>“Of course, she is.” Jamie frowned at Bucky. “Last I checked!” he added with a laugh. “Her and dad are on a cruise around the Galápagos right now, or else I’m sure she’d’ve loved to meet you. And Becca’s already begged me to invite you to lunch at hers tomorrow.”</p>
<p>Bucky was stunned speechless. “<em>Becca?</em>” he exhaled. Tears welled up in his eyes and this time, he couldn’t hold them back. He felt a strong hand thread through his fingers and give it a squeeze, and glanced across to flash Steve a watery smile of gratitude.</p>
<p>“If you can stick around that long, of course.”</p>
<p>“We’ll be there,” Steve answered for him, looking a little teary-eyed himself. “What about Stevie’s mom?” He sounded hesitant and cautious.</p>
<p>“She’s working this evening—said she was sorry to miss you—but she’ll be there tomorrow. She’s gonna throw a fit when she sees you!” Jamie laughed before he began to chivvy them toward the dining room. “C’mon, it’s getting cold.”</p>
<p>Bucky squeezed Steve’s hand back before they followed Jamie through to the dining room that was sandwiched between the kitchen and living room. It was a little cramped with the seven of them squashed around a table only really meant for six—especially with Steve and Bucky taking up more than their fair share of the space—but it was easily the best meal Bucky could remember in a long time.</p>
<p>The pie was every bit as delicious as Bucky remembered, and Steve had the good sense to ask Jamie for a copy of all of Winnifred’s—and Grandma Hubbard’s—recipes (including her meringue pumpkin pie and all of Winnifred’s notes on cooking her perfect Thanksgiving spread, which had Bucky welling up again). The conversation flowed easily between the seven of them, despite the potential for lots of awkward acquainting. It soon became clear that, like the new Steve Bucky had grown to know, although they’d lived very different lives, Jamie’s and Stevie’s hearts and souls were mirrors of their own, and it was like sharing a meal with old friends.</p>
<p>They steered away from talking too much about their pasts, landing on mutual topics they could all agree on. Space, art, a surprising number of multiversal films and tv shows, and—most surprisingly of all—the Dodgers. Apparently, they’d never left the Brooklyn of Steve’s world, not before the war, anyway, and here, they’d only recently moved to LA, which meant Stevie and Jamie were full of fresh vitriol for them. Riley, who’d grown up on football more than baseball, and Sam and Wilson who were both bigger fans of the Yankees and the Nationals, found the whole discussion hilarious.</p>
<p>After the meal wound down and people had to start thinking about work the following day, it was decided that Bucky and Steve would spend the night in the Barnes-Rogers household, with Sam spending the last night back at Riley and Wilson’s. Long after it had grown dark and the dishes had been soaking in the sink for hours as they swapped stories in the living room, they parted ways with lots of hugging and heartfelt goodbyes.</p>
<p>“Thanks for finding me.” Sam gripped Bucky tight and hugged him on the doorstep.</p>
<p>“I’m so glad you’re okay.” Bucky hugged back. “Thanks for looking after him,” he directed at Riley and Wilson before swapping to give them each a rib-crushing hug.</p>
<p>“’Course.”</p>
<p>“We’ll pick you up after we’re finished at Becca’s tomorrow?” he confirmed with Sam. The full moon was high and bright in the sky, illuminating the quiet street with a soft, silvery glow that bounced off of Sam’s smile. Bucky had always thought of Sam as a happy and positive person, but all evening, he’d smiled easier and laughed louder than Bucky had ever seen before.</p>
<p>“See you then.”</p>
<p>“Sure you don’t want to come with us?”</p>
<p>“Nah, man. That’s family time.”</p>
<p>“You <em>are</em> family, Sam. At least to me. You’re all I’ve got.” Bucky said earnestly and Sam’s smile widened another degree.</p>
<p>“Not anymore,” Sam said in a whisper and nodded secretively to Steve who’d hung back in the porchway with Jaime and Stevie.</p>
<p>“Maybe not.” Bucky allowed with a smile.</p>
<p>“I’ll see you tomorrow, Barnes. Don’t leave without me.”</p>
<p>“We won’t.” He pulled Sam back into a final hug before he stepped back to wave them off.</p>
<p>Perhaps they should have rushed right back to their Earth and thrown themselves back into finding the other missing people, but Bucky figured one extra night in this peaceful parallel world couldn’t do any harm. For once, he was willing to be selfish, and the allure of seeing Becca one final time was surprisingly strong. Even if they <em>had</em> to go back right away, Bucky wasn’t sure if he would have been able to pull himself away.</p>
<p>He followed the others back inside and locked the door up firmly behind himself.</p>
<p>“I should probably do the dishes,” Stevie sighed.</p>
<p>“I’ll help.” Bucky offered immediately.</p>
<p>“That means you can help me get the bedding sorted for the spare room, big guy.” Jamie elbowed Steve with a playful nudge.</p>
<p>“Sure.” Steve laughed.</p>
<p>“Put all those muscles to good use.”</p>
<p>Stevie rolled his eyes with an exaggerated put out sigh and grabbed Bucky’s hand in retaliation, dragging him towards the kitchen.</p>
<p>“I’ll wash, you dry,” Stevie instructed with such a familiar authority Bucky almost felt like he was back in the thirties for one dizzying second. “Can your hand even get wet?” he added half a moment later, in a much more cautious tone as he set the taps running and squirted a healthy dose of dish soap into the sink.</p>
<p>“Yeah, it’s fine.” Bucky waved his hand under the tap as proof. Shuri’s cleverly designed plates shifted seamlessly to close any gaps, instantly waterproofing the arm. He flicked some water at Stevie for good measure, which made Stevie grin and squeeze the bottle of dish soap in his direction, letting out a puff of harmless bubbles.</p>
<p>“What happened?”</p>
<p>“War wound,” Bucky equivocated.</p>
<p>“You were in a war?”</p>
<p>Bucky nodded. “So was Steve. More than one.”</p>
<p>“I’m so sorry.”</p>
<p>“Yeah, me too.”</p>
<p>“Is that how he . . .”</p>
<p>“Got so big?” Bucky offered. “Yeah, the damn fool let the army experiment on him. But, so did I on his world, apparently. So, I have no grounds to complain.”</p>
<p>Stevie’s brow pulled taut as he tested the water and switched off the taps. “Complain? What is there to complain about?”</p>
<p>“He let himself be used as a lab rat! They pumped him full of serum and stuffed him in some high-tech easy bake oven! He could have died!” Bucky protested. “Stupid, noble, martyrish fool.” Bucky shook his head.</p>
<p>“I’m sure he had good reasons.” Stevie offered as he plunged the first dish into the sink and started scrubbing it clean. Bucky couldn’t help but smile. “Plus, now he looks like Superman, so that’s a bonus.” Stevie laughed.</p>
<p>“It took some getting used to. I guess I don’t mind it so much now.”</p>
<p>“Mind?” Stevie scoffed like Bucky was mad. “I thought you’d be overjoyed.”</p>
<p>Bucky wiped a tea towel across the plate he was drying and pondered his answer before replying. The truth was, he’d been furious with Steve at first, so scared of what it would mean for him, for them. He’d realised long before Steve ever had that there wouldn’t be a ‘normal life’ for them to go back to after the war anymore.</p>
<p>“I loved Steve for his personality,” Bucky said, setting the dry dish carefully on the counter. “I loved him for this heart and soul. For his smile. His tenacious goddamn stubbornness and precisely all the reasons he offered him up as an experiment. When I realised that none of that had changed . . .” Bucky trailed off, lost in the memories of him and Steve relearning each other after Kreischberg. Steve had been so proud of his new strength and so eager to do good with it that Bucky couldn’t begrudge his decision for long. He was still the best man Bucky knew, back then, and he’d been sure that Steve’s heart hadn’t changed, that he was still the same good man he’d always been just one with the physical strength to match his strength of character.</p>
<p>At least, Bucky <em>thought</em> that hadn’t changed. He was still having a hard time reconciling the Steve that had pulled him from Kreischberg, the one who’d broken through Bucky’s brainwashing on the helicarrier and who’d gone against the UN for him, with the one who’d abandoned him after the snap. But the truth remained that Bucky had always loved Steve for more than his muscles. “I made my peace with it. But I always loved Steve, even when he was 5’4”—”</p>
<p>“5’5”,” Stevie broke in with an indignant protest, flicking some bubbles in Bucky’s direction.</p>
<p>“Sorry, 5’5”,” Bucky gave him a smile. “And I’m sure Jamie feels the same—you don’t need to be jealous.”</p>
<p>“Oh, I’m not jealous.” Stevie laughed, utterly confident and secure in the knowledge that he owned Jamie’s whole heart. It was affirming and charming, and Bucky hip-checked him with a smile.</p>
<p>“Good.”</p>
<p>“I’m happy for you two, though. You’re a good fit,” Stevie commented, handing Bucky another clean plate to be dried up. Bucky didn’t correct him of the assumption that he and the new Steve were together. “I’m glad you found each other.”</p>
<p>“Me too.”</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Yay! Sam's safe, told you he'd be fine 😊😊</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0019"><h2>19. III . iii . iii</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <strong>III.III.iii</strong>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>Steve</em>
</p>
<p>Steve’s head had been spinning from the moment they stepped through the portal. It was Brooklyn, almost identical to the one he remembered from before the war, a place he never thought he’d set foot in again. It was like walking through a memory. Winter hung heavy in the air and with the last traces of autumn clinging on for dear life. Thanksgiving was already forgotten and people were hurrying to and fro with bags bursting with groceries or early Christmas shopping. Steve saw more people in the space of five seconds than he had in years, and that was only the beginning.</p>
<p>Steve had known that the ‘Sam’ Bucky kept talking about was the Falcon from his world, but it was still a shock to come face to face with someone who had been his hero for so long, whose mantle he’d tried to take on but which he had never quite managed to live up to. Even more shocking was being confronted with a reflection of himself that he hadn’t seen since . . . since he cut Doc Green down with an axe. Steve had shuddered at the memory, and he almost turned and fled. But Stevie was nothing like Doc Green. Any bitterness Stevie held in his heart was reserved for the great injustices in the world: social inequality, systemic racism, and the Dodgers moving to LA.</p>
<p>Stevie was everything Steve had always wanted to be when he was younger. Confident, self-assured, with a much better sense of style than Steve ever remembered having. And then there was <em>Jamie</em>. God. He was so young and carefree, so innocent that it made knowing all of the horrors his Bucky—and the new one—had faced even worse.</p>
<p>Steve felt so unworthy to be seated at the table with any of them, knowing how much blood there was on his hands and all the awful things he’d done. But Bucky’s smile was growing brighter by the second and Sam looked perfectly at peace sandwiched between Riley and Wilson; Steve would never have dreamed of cutting the evening short. If he ignored the guilt churning in his gut, then it was a wonderful evening. He managed to draw comfort from the knowledge that other versions of Steve and Bucky in other universes <em>did</em> get to grow old with one another in a world free from war. They did get their bright summer days. Stevie may still have asthma, he may still have the scars from his many surgeries over the years to fix his heart and his spine, but he still had his Bucky, too, and Steve couldn’t help but feel a pang of jealousy at seeing them so domestic and content with one another.</p>
<p>After dinner, once Sam, Riley and Wilson had departed for the evening, they settled on the couch to watch a film Steve vaguely recognised the title of. Stevie and Jamie curled around one another like pretzels in the armchair, which gave Steve and Bucky the whole couch to spread out on. But whilst there was plenty of room, Steve found himself sitting closer to Bucky than he normally did in the compound, and before they’d even got past the opening credits, Bucky had twisted to place his legs across Steve’s lap and settled back with a contented smile on his face, which Steve was immensely grateful for. He needed the contact, he needed to be able to rub soothing circles into Bucky’s ankle and promise himself that <em>this </em>time he wouldn’t fail Bucky; he’d make sure. Once they took Sam home, once they’d found a way to stop the glitches, he’d do everything he possibly could to make sure Bucky got the peaceful life he deserved.</p>
<p>Steve fell asleep halfway through the film and he came to with his head lolling against the back of the couch as the other three began to potter around the living room and close up the apartment for bedtime. It was easy enough to traipse sleepily through to the guest room and fall onto the bed without fully waking up. Maybe it was because he already felt so sleepy, maybe it was because they’d spent all evening watching Stevie and Jamie acting so domestically with one another, or maybe it was just because Steve had spent the past week or so helping Bucky fall asleep, anyway, but when Bucky crawled under the covers to join him and wrapped himself around Steve to fall asleep, it felt like the most natural thing in the world.</p>
<p>He woke early, like he always did, to find Bucky still wrapped around his torso and legs, octopus style. Steve smiled and pressed a gentle kiss against Bucky’s temple before he carefully extracted himself and slipped through the apartment to the kitchen. Coffee had next to no effect on him anymore, but it was habit more than anything to drink a cup each morning—one he’d sorely missed during his time on the gamma world. The ritual of brewing a good strong cup and inhaling the rich, nutty aroma was just as much a part of his morning routine as going for a run or taking a shower.</p>
<p>So, when he padded through into the kitchen just as the first signs of dawn were creeping through the window, he wasn’t surprised to find Stevie already sitting at the kitchen table with his long, spindly fingers wrapped around a mug. He was dressed in a striped navy-blue dressing gown which absolutely drowned him (and Steve suspected really belonged to Jamie), and his flyaway blonde hair was even more flyaway than normal.</p>
<p>“Morning,” Steve greeted him warmly. Stevie glanced up from his phone and his eyes nearly bugged out of his head at the sight of Steve in the tank top and the boxer shorts he’d borrowed from Jamie to sleep in. Steve was fond of wearing close-fitting clothes normally, but even he had to admit they were a little tight.</p>
<p>“Jesus,” Stevie muttered. “What the hell was in that serum they gave you? You got any spare? I’d love to not need glasses anymore.” He laughed.</p>
<p>“Sorry. All gone.”</p>
<p>“Shame. Ma’s gonna flip when she sees you, though. I can’t wait.” He grinned before diving back into whatever article or Twitter feed he was reading.</p>
<p>“Right.” Steve poured himself a mug of coffee and tried to quell the fresh batch of nerves jittering in his stomach. In all of the excitement and chaos from yesterday, Steve had almost forgotten he was going to see his mother again today. A version of her at any rate. How many times had he tried to bargain for just one more day with her? Now that the prospect was there, Steve had forgotten everything he wanted to say to her, or ask her. He sipped at his coffee, but he barely registered the taste or smell. His head felt like it was full of bees.</p>
<p>In the end, he had to excuse himself to go for a run. Stevie supplied him with some borrowed running gear from Jamie, which was just toeing the line between form-fitting and indecent when Steve tried it on. He didn’t care; he had to burn off some steam. He ran all of the old routes he and Bucky used to cycle as kids and wound his way around Prospect Park. When, after two hours, he still wasn’t even remotely exhausted, he ran across to Brooklyn Bridge Park and followed the waterfront along until he was standing underneath Manhattan Bridge, in almost the exact spot he’d faced down Apocalypse and his life had gone from hell to something even worse.</p>
<p>People bustled around him, completely unaware of how lucky they were to be going about their daily business, how much of a privilege it was to take their morning commute or breakfast dash for granted. Steve was glad for them and hoped they’d never know the horrors of war, but his heart ached for his lost homeworld all the same.</p>
<p>Bucky and Jamie were both awake by the time Steve returned from his run. They were both in the kitchen bickering with Stevie about how to correctly toast bread, of all things. It was a nice change of pace to bickering about the end of the universe, Steve had to admit.</p>
<p>Ordinarily, Jamie would have been at work, as he’d explained the evening before, but it wasn’t every day your doppelgängers from across the multiverse popped in for a visit, so he was using a day of annual leave to accompany them to Becca’s. Stevie, who worked as a freelance artist and got to choose his own hours, had gloated that he was free to join them as well.</p>
<p>“Steve, back me up,” Stevie demanded as soon as Steve ducked between the three of them to fetch a glass of water. Poor guy was outnumbered, but he wasn’t letting himself be out-argued. “Toast should be golden brown, not singed to within an inch of its life.”</p>
<p>“What you eat is <em>warm bread</em> at best,” Jamie scoffed.</p>
<p>“I prefer pancakes.” Steve shrugged, not keen to get right in the middle of their argument.</p>
<p>“Pancakes! Yes, yes, we should have pancakes.” Jamie nodded eagerly. “Stevie, pass me the eggs.”</p>
<p>“Okay, no. If we’re making pancakes <em>I’m</em> making the batter. Move aside.” Stevie shooed Jamie away from the stove.</p>
<p>Steve shook his head, smiling, and excused himself to take a quick shower. His nerves weren’t gone, but the run had helped settle his mind and his fears.</p>
<p>Bucky was sitting on the end of the bed when Steve emerged from the bathroom wrapped in just a towel.</p>
<p>“Good run?” he asked.</p>
<p>“Yeah, it was really great to see the city again. Strange, too.”</p>
<p>“Hm, I bet.” Bucky seemed a little off, but Steve couldn’t figure out what was upsetting him. Unless—</p>
<p>“Sorry I left without asking, I should have waited to see if you wanted to come.” Bucky was finally free of the tracking anklet, of <em>course</em>, he’d have wanted to see the city, too.</p>
<p>“What? No, I couldn’t have managed a run this morning.”</p>
<p>“Then what’s up?” Steve stopped drying his hair with a spare towel and stared at Bucky with concern.</p>
<p>“This lunch . . . Becca. I’m worried if I see her again, I might never be able to tear myself away. Starting to understand how Steve must have felt when he went back. Maybe. I dunno. It’s just . . .” He shook his head and trailed off.</p>
<p>“I get it,” Steve said softly.</p>
<p>“And your mom, Steve, I.” Bucky clamped his mouth shut and shook his head. “I remember when she died. How do I talk to her without making things weird, without messing up this reality? Maybe we should just get Sam and go.”</p>
<p>Steve hesitated. “If that’s what you want,” he said slowly.</p>
<p>Bucky shook his head again. “I don’t know what I want. What do you want?”</p>
<p>It felt selfish to say it, but Steve wanted to stay. Just for lunch. He’d never dream of staying permanently and imposing himself somewhere he wasn’t wanted, but now that he’d worked himself up for it, he really did want to see his ma one last time and get to have his proper goodbye. She’d been so out of it from all the drugs, and the treatment and the disease had both worn her so thin that she hadn’t been herself in the last months. Steve wanted to see her in her prime one last time.</p>
<p>“I want to stay, for lunch,” he answered. His tongue felt thick as he spoke. “I think the closure might be good for us.” He waited with bated breath for Bucky to respond, knowing that if Bucky really did want to leave, Steve wouldn’t try to stop him. To his relief, Bucky nodded.</p>
<p>“Alright. Then we’ll stay. Strange and Banner can ream us out for it later.”</p>
<p>Steve exhaled deeply and smiled. “We don’t have to tell them the truth. Just say it took longer to find Sam than expected. I can’t imagine he’d rat us out.”</p>
<p>Bucky dipped his head and chuckled. “I dunno <em>how</em> everyone has you pegged as this paragon of truth and virtue,” he laughed.</p>
<p>“Me neither.” Steve grinned back.</p>
<p> </p>
<hr/>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>Bucky</em>
</p>
<p>Becca lived out in Queens, and they grouped together on the subway, clinging tightly to the handrails as the train rocked and shuddered its way down the track. Bucky wore gloves to hide his metal arm and kept glancing around at the exits or anyone who dared to get too close. He kept half-expecting government agents to come sweeping down on him for breaking his perimeter. It made him feel jittery and on edge. This whole reality was a little unnerving; it felt too good to be true. There was always rot hiding under the surface somewhere, wasn’t there? Or was this a world where Steve and Bucky really did get their happy ending?</p>
<p>“Uncle Jamie! Uncle Stevie!” A small child with dark brown curls and the Barnes family dimple in their chin pounced on Jamie as soon as the front door was pulled open.</p>
<p>“Hey there, Isaac.” Jamie scooped him up effortlessly and twirled him around. Isaac gave a whoop of laughter before he started wiggling to be put down. He couldn’t have been older than three, and he was the absolute spit of Bucky when he was little in the very few family photos they’d had taken. He was wary of Bucky and Steve at first, but with a simple explanation that they were friends, he was soon climbing all over Steve, swinging off his arms like a jungle gym and begging Becca to let him go outside and show them all his fort.</p>
<p>“You’ll need a coat on!” she warned, but was otherwise happy to let Steve, Jamie and Stevie chaperone him outside, finally leaving her alone with Bucky. She turned to smile at him and Bucky let himself look at her properly for the first time since he’d stepped through her front door, hardly able to believe what he was seeing.</p>
<p>The last time he’d seen her, in 1938, she’d been twelve years old, packing up to move back to Indiana with their parents. Her hair had been styled in ringlets then, and tied up in pigtails, bouncing around her shoulders. Bucky had seen pictures of her once he’d finally worked up the courage to google her and read up on her life. He’d seen black and white photos of her wedding, grainy coloured photos of her standing at the ceremony that gave James Buchanan Barnes a star on the wall of SHIELD HQ, some family photos Lydia had passed onto to him through Bernie of Becca on family vacations, holding her grandchildren, enjoying her life to the full. But it still didn’t prepare him to see her as she was now, late twenties, full of youthful energy and in her absolute prime. Her curly hair was shoulder length and her bright Barnes eyes shone with happiness.</p>
<p>“Jamie wasn’t very forthcoming with the details, but he says you’re from a parallel universe, like the other Sam who’s been staying with Sam and Riley?”</p>
<p>Bucky nodded.</p>
<p>“He also said the two of you had a pretty rough time of it.”</p>
<p>“Understatement,” Bucky managed to croak. Becca’s expression softened and for a moment she looked so much like Winnifred, it made Bucky’s heart skip a beat. She wrapped her hand gently around his left wrist, gripping the metal with a tender touch.</p>
<p>“You look like you’ve been through hell.”</p>
<p>“There and back again.” Bucky gave her a sad smile. He was teetering on the brink of an emotional collapse; any minute now and his resolve was going to crumble into a puddle of tears.</p>
<p>“Can I hug you?” Bucky asked. His voice was thick.</p>
<p>“Of course, you can, c’mere.” She pulled him in and squeezed him tight. Bucky sunk into her embrace, resting his chin on the top of her head like he had done when they’d both been smaller.</p>
<p>“God, I’ve missed you,” Bucky couldn’t help but say, and the dam broke. He was powerless to stop the tears that welled in his eyes like a leaky faucet. He clung to her more tightly and let himself sob.</p>
<p>“It’s okay,” Becca whispered.</p>
<p>He screwed up his face and buried it in her hair, completely undone by the simple act of holding his baby sister again, something he never thought he’d get to do. The last words they’d shared had been written in letters scribbled in snatches of free time before missions, and he was never sure how much—if anything—of what he said made it past the censors. He’d never responded to her last letter. He’d carried it with him on the train when they went after Zola. It must have fallen with him into that ravine and been lost to history, like the soul of the man he’d once been.</p>
<p>“I never thought I’d ever see you again.”</p>
<p>Becca didn’t say anything, she just gave him a squeeze and let him hug her for as long as needed. He was still crying when he finally pulled back, Becca just offered him the sleeve of her sweater to wipe the tears away, which was a very mom-like thing for her to do. It made him want to burst into tears all over again at how much she’d grown up.</p>
<p>“You keep that up, I’m gonna start crying,” she huffed with no real heat in her voice. “You know I never like seeing you upset.”</p>
<p>“Upset? What’s this Jamie got to be upset about?” Bucky sniffed through the last of his tears and wiped them away with the hem of his own jumper, using the heel of his hand to wipe at his nose, too, in a very undignified manner. But it was Becca, she’d no doubt seen worse.</p>
<p>“All the usual mundane things. And he worries about Stevie a lot, though Stevie would hate to hear it.”</p>
<p>Bucky frowned.</p>
<p>“He’s much better after the last op, but it was touch and go with his heart for a while.” Becca dropped her voice to answer quietly. Of course, how could Bucky forget? Without the serum, they’d never thought Steve would be lucky to see his thirties. Those problems had clearly clung to Stevie in this seemingly idyllic world.</p>
<p>“But he’s gonna be okay?” In the twenty-twenties, or whatever modern decade this planet was in, they’d have better healthcare than they’d have dreamed of in the nineteen-forties, right?</p>
<p>“Should be,” Becca assured him. “Stark’s got them on a great healthcare plan and Rob’s promised to pull some strings even if that fails them.” She smiled. Robert Proctor was her husband, Bucky remembered from Jamie’s hurried briefing on the subway ride over—a surgeon at the New York Presbyterian, and Becca taught drama at the local high school, which explained their lovely house with a backyard big enough for Isaac to build a fort in. “Want to come help me plate up? They’ll all be getting cold and cranky if we don’t eat soon.”</p>
<p>“Sure thing.”</p>
<p>Bucky half wished he could stay in this universe forever. Visiting Becca on weekends, playing with his nephew and soon-to-be niece—Becca dropped that bombshell on everyone over lunch that she’d just found out she was expecting again. She didn’t know the sex yet, but if this world mirrored their own as much as Bucky thought it would, he was pretty confident it would be a girl.</p>
<p>“I like the name Lydia,” Becca said off-hand as he helped her stack the dishwasher after lunch, and it was all Bucky could to hold back a very knowing smile. (Isaac’s middle name was James, it made sense that in a universe where Bucky was alive and well, his nephew wouldn’t be directly named after him.)</p>
<p>But he knew their time there had to come to an end sooner or later. He could see that Steve was as reluctant to go as he was, but it wasn’t their place to stay. They couldn’t ignore the fact that their universe was literally falling apart at the seams; they had to go back and help.</p>
<p>When the sky began to grow dark with the early December sunset, Bucky forced himself to prepare to leave. He stole a few minutes with Sarah before they left, helping her brew up a round of hot drinks for everyone whilst the others sat chatting in the living room. She’d stopped by just as they were halfway through dinner and spent a long, long time sitting out on the back step talking with Steve, wrapped up in each other’s arms. Bucky had watched them through the kitchen window with a wistful smile.</p>
<p>It was odd seeing her in modern clothing. Bucky had only ever seen her in long, full skirts with a starched apron thrown over them, and her blonde hair pulled back in a bun. The sight of her in soft mom jeans, comfortable-looking sneakers and a lumpy sky-blue sweater threw him for a long moment. But her face was just the same and her accent just as broad and striking as he always remembered.</p>
<p>“You’ll be good to him, now, won’t you?” she asked of Bucky. “I may not have raised that man in there, but he’s still my son in all the ways that matter, and he’s suffered so much heartbreak already, I couldn’t bear the thought of him suffering anymore.”</p>
<p>Bucky didn’t know what to say.</p>
<p>“He needs you. And you need him. I believe there’s a reason the universe pulled the two of you together when it did. Steve’s a stubborn fool when he wants to be, and he’s all twisted up with guilt over loving you—”</p>
<p>
  <em>Loving?</em>
</p>
<p>“—so, I’m counting on you to be the sensible one, James.” She raised a hand to cup his jaw and smiled. “Don’t let me down.”</p>
<p>“I’ll try not to, ma’am,” Bucky stammered in response.</p>
<p>“I know you won’t.” She traced her thumb over his cheek then pressed a chaste kiss in its place, before thrusting two mugs of herbal tea into his hands. “Take these in to Becca and Jamie, will you?”</p>
<p>Bucky retreated quickly, Sarah had always awed and terrified him slightly. Seemed like this universe was no different.</p>
<p>They said their goodbyes soon after that. It was bittersweet, but Bucky knew if they didn’t leave now, then he would never be able to. He gave Becca a last hug, then found himself being tackled by both Jamie and Stevie at once, whilst Isaac waved enthusiastically at all over them, shouting “bub-bye-bub-bye!” over and over again.</p>
<p>“Ready?” he asked Steve as he wrenched himself, teary-eyed, from his mom’s embrace.</p>
<p>Steve could only nod. Silently, both battling painful homesickness that tugged on their heartstrings, they tore themselves away from Becca’s house and made their way back to Brooklyn; back towards the fight that was still calling them home.</p>
<p>*✧･ﾟ:* ✧*:･ﾟ✧*</p>
<p>Mercifully, the subway car was mostly empty when they hopped aboard and let it cart them between the boroughs. They settled into hard plastic chairs, the same modern shade of orange that Bucky recognised from his own world, and he found himself missing the wicker benches he’d grown up with in the thirties.</p>
<p>“They used to have ceiling fans, you know,” he commented off-hand, letting his gaze sweep around the car. “The walls were white and green.” Memories of his life from before the war were tumbling through his mind, no doubt sparked by seeing Stevie and Becca. His brain was making connections it hadn't needed to in a while, and forgotten recollections were being dredged to the surface. The harsh orange, the glare of the fluorescent lights, and the shiny metals poles were the only thing keeping Bucky grounded in the present.</p>
<p>Beside him, it looked like Steve was lost in his own memories, too. He was sitting hunched over with his elbows resting on his knees, staring at the blurred subway walls that passed through the carriage window like he wasn’t really seeing them. His jaw was clenched and his eyes looked tired.</p>
<p>“You okay?” Bucky asked.</p>
<p>“Fine.” Steve blinked and shot Bucky a glance over his shoulder, managing a small smile, but his thoughts still looked miles away.</p>
<p>“Not having second thoughts about leaving, are you?” Bucky dared to ask. It’s what his Steve had done, after all. Found somewhere better and run off to play house in ‘paradise.’ He doubted this Steve would do the same—but then he’d never expected his own Steve to up and leave, either, had he?</p>
<p>“What?” Stave sat up and turned to frown at Bucky.</p>
<p>“We can’t stay here.”</p>
<p>“I know.” Steve’s frown deepened.</p>
<p>“Just checking.” Bucky offered a weak smile in return. “I’m glad we stayed for lunch, though.”</p>
<p>“Me too.” Steve’s expression cleared. He dragged a hand through his hair, pushing his bangs back from his forehead and settling back against the seat. “Becca looked so grown up, I couldn’t believe it.”</p>
<p>Bucky hummed in agreement.</p>
<p>“And how cute was Isaac? He looked just like you did as a kid. There was a photo that used to sit on the sideboard in Buck’s parents’ living room, he looked identical. Right down to that little curl on his forehead.” Steve’s smile turned dreamy, lost in the memory. “I guess you didn’t have many photos of yourself when you were younger?” Steve asked.</p>
<p>“Not many,” Bucky agreed, thinking back. Photographs were saved for special occasions. They were formal affairs, but there had been a few dotting the sideboard in their drawing-room. Steve and Sarah never had any photos. “And there were none of Steve. Not from before. There was one taken by the SSR before the serum, a candid from training.” It was plastered everywhere in the future, all over the Smithsonian walls, in all the history books, but that wasn’t how Bucky remembered Steve <em>before</em>. “There weren’t any of us. Not a photo as I knew him before the serum.”</p>
<p>There had been some photos taken of the pair of them during the war, with Steve dressed up in his Captain America attire, Bucky at his shoulder with a wave of dark hair and something of a sulk etched into his face. But they’d never had the money to have photos taken of themselves before—they relied on Steve’s ability to sketch and capture memories they wanted to keep. But even then, Steve was always reluctant to draw himself.</p>
<p>“Steve sketched a lot,” Bucky went on. Steve lifted an eyebrow in interest. “He drew a lot of me, but never himself. His hands, maybe, his nose in abstract. His feet—crossed and resting on my lap. That’s how I remember him most: small, rake thin, but with no less brilliance shining from his eyes.” It had confused the hell out of Bucky when he was first getting his memories back; there were photos of Steve plastered everywhere, but none that matched the image in his mind. “There’s nothing of him recorded like that anywhere. No trace of Steve Rogers in the history books, not really. And when Steve left—he took that last trace with him.”</p>
<p>A cloud of disappointment and confusion flicked across Steve’s expression. “I still don’t understand why he’d leave,” Steve muttered bitterly.</p>
<p>“Me either.” Bucky’s shoulders sagged. “You weren’t tempted? Seeing this idyllic world?” he found himself asking.</p>
<p>Steve didn’t look as offended as Bucky had feared he might. “No,” he said resolutely.</p>
<p>“Not even a little? I was,” Bucky added honestly. “But not seriously. This place is too perfect. I feel like I’d just mess it up.”</p>
<p>“Me too,” Steve replied.</p>
<p>They fell silent, both lost in their thoughts as the subway rumbled beneath the streets of Brooklyn.</p>
<p>When they hit their stop, they stepped off the subway platform and trooped up the steps out into the cool night air waiting for them topside.</p>
<p>“I miss the city, though,” Steve offered as they walked. He stuffed his hands into his jacket pockets and tipped his head back to glance up at the buildings they passed between. “When you’re free to leave the compound again, I think I’d like to visit.”</p>
<p>When, not if, Bucky noticed with a smile. He admired Steve’s confidence.</p>
<p>“We can do that,” Bucky told him. He glanced across and saw Steve smile. Underneath the artificial glow of the streetlamps, he looked absolutely beautiful, and Bucky couldn’t help but recall the bombshell that Sarah had dropped in the kitchen, that she thought this Steve had fallen in love with Bucky.</p>
<p>It was a possibility Bucky hadn’t even let himself consider until that moment. He’d been falling down that slippery slope himself for weeks. Ever since he’d seen that same brilliance and same warm-hearted goodness shining from Steve that he had fallen for the first time around. But he’d never ever dreamt it might be reciprocated. Steve was mourning his warbound, a far better person than Bucky could ever hope to be—what could this Steve possibly see in him?</p>
<p>But as he stared at Steve and saw him smiling back with an expression that looked unmistakably fond, Bucky was forced to consider the prospect that Sarah might have been right. And what a dizzying prospect that was.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0020"><h2>20. III . iii . iv</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Sorry for the delay, thank you for all of your comments! </p>
<p>💙💙💙💙</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <strong>III.III.iv</strong>
</p>
<p>
  <em>Steve</em>
</p>
<p>Sam was waiting for them on the steps up to the brownstone. He told them he’d said his goodbyes in private before they got there, and Steve didn’t blame him for it.</p>
<p>“I’m sorry.” Bucky pulled Sam into a strong hug, and for a moment, they just clung together before Sam pulled back.</p>
<p>“Time to go,” Sam decided, and neither Steve nor Bucky were going to argue with him. They crossed the streets back towards the same alleyway they’d arrived in. The air was crisp and cold and the sky darkened with every step.</p>
<p>“Can’t be easy leaving them behind,” Bucky said quietly after half a block.</p>
<p>Sam didn’t answer immediately. He shoved his hands in his pockets and shook his head. For a while, it looked like it wasn’t going to reply.</p>
<p>“No, it’s not,” Sam eventually offered up. He smiled and managed to look far more composed than Bucky looked or Steve felt. “But I made peace with Riley’s death a long time ago. I know I’m not getting him back; I know the universe isn’t going to give me a second—or third—chance. Not like your replacement Steve here,” Sam gave a dry chuckle, flashing Steve a grin to make sure he knew he was joking. Steve dipped his head and bit back a laugh of his own. He’d only known Sam for less than forty-eight hours, but he could already tell they had a very compatible sense of humour, and that Sam had an enviable knack for injecting humour into even the darkest of situations.</p>
<p>“He’s not a <em>replacement</em>.” Bucky countered, sounding outraged. “You’re not a replacement,” he directed at Steve, making sure he hadn’t been offended. Steve smiled to assure him he wasn’t bothered by it. He knew Bucky didn’t see him like that, and that’s all that mattered.</p>
<p>“An upgrade, then,” Sam laughed. “I see you opted for an even more muscular model. Didn’t even know that was <em>possible,</em>” he muttered almost to himself. Steve just shook his head.</p>
<p>They pressed on another half a block, pausing for traffic to pass before they jogged across a road. “Knowing they’re out there,” Sam picked up where’d left off. “Knowing there’s a universe where they get to live happily in peace…that’s enough.”</p>
<p>“Yeah,” Bucky answered, his thoughts looked miles away and Steve knew they were back with Stevie and Jamie, much like his own.</p>
<p>“Besides, I might’ve met someone,” Sam added with a grin. He arched his eyebrows, clearly waiting for Bucky’s delighted reaction. Bucky didn’t disappoint. He looked so much more animated around Sam, it was a joy to see.</p>
<p>“What? That’s awesome! Who?”</p>
<p>“A physicist and an astronaut,” Sam replied, grinning from ear to ear. “She worked with this Jamie and Sam. Former Captain of the International Space Station. So smart, and so brilliant—”</p>
<p>“So, why’s she interested in you?” Bucky teased and Steve fought to rein in his own smile.</p>
<p>Sam just gave Bucky a nudge with his elbow and continued unfazed. “I might look her up on our earth, see if she wants to go for a drink.” He grinned, then turned mock-serious. “You know that favour you owe me?”</p>
<p>“What favour?” Bucky narrowed his eyes.</p>
<p>“From when you totalled my brand-new car?”</p>
<p>Bucky rolled his eyes and Steve glanced between the two of them, intrigued.</p>
<p>“You’re still on that?”</p>
<p>“Still on that? Barnes, I’ve never been off that!”</p>
<p>“What happened?” Steve found himself asking, against his better judgement.</p>
<p>“He pulled my steering wheel out through the windshield! And blasted the doors off!” Sam shouted, sounding like he was faking a lot of the anger in his tone and leaving Steve with far more questions than he’d started with.</p>
<p>“You pulled the steering wheel through the windshield…?” Steve asked Bucky, eyebrows buried in his hairline.</p>
<p>“It’s a long story.” Bucky gestured vaguely. He looked like he’d rather not talk about it, so Steve didn’t press for further details.</p>
<p>“I’d just paid off the last instalment!” Sam added, indignant.</p>
<p>“Fine, I owe you a favour.” Bucky rolled his eyes again. “You want me to track her down?”</p>
<p>“I know it’s a skill of yours.”</p>
<p>“What’s her name?”</p>
<p>“Monica. Captain Monica Rambeau.” Sam grinned and Bucky shot Steve a covert glance which Steve could read all too well.</p>
<p>“Rambeau?” Bucky’s expression betrayed no flicker of recognition. Steve ducked his chin back beneath his collar and took the zipper into his teeth, trying not to give the game away.</p>
<p>“Can you work with that?”</p>
<p>“I can give it a shot.” Bucky shrugged. “Not making any promises, though.”</p>
<p>Sam nodded, “I know.” He looked a little crestfallen. “Thanks, anyway.”</p>
<p>Bucky reached out to squeeze Sam’s shoulder and dropped his nonchalant façade. “We’ll find her,” he promised. “Though I doubt she’ll want anything to do with you when we do,” he added, back to teasing in a nanosecond. It looked like teasing was exactly the kind of distraction Sam needed right then, though.</p>
<p>They reached the alleyway and checked their surroundings before ducking into it. Technically they could have re-opened the portal from anywhere, but if anything went wrong they’d decided they didn’t want to bring trouble directly outside Riley and Wilson’s front door.</p>
<p>“Okay, here goes nothing,” Bucky muttered as they huddled together and he activated the Kimoyo Bead on his wrist.</p>
<p>A portal carved itself into the air in front of them, cutting through the fabric of multiple realities to peer into the interior of the spaceship waiting for them on Svartálfheim. Steve gave one last wistful glance around the peaceful world before Bucky grabbed his hand and pulled him and Sam through the circle of orange, which zipped shut in a shower of sparks behind them.</p>
<p>Sam glanced around dubiously, looking baffled by the dull grey interior of the ship.</p>
<p>“We’re still not on our earth, are we?” he asked.</p>
<p>“No, but we’re back in your universe at least,” Steve tried to reassure him, whilst Bucky beamed.</p>
<p>“Welcome to space!” Bucky clapped Sam on the shoulder.</p>
<p>“Yeah, yeah, big whoop. Who hasn’t been to space before?” Rocket made his presence known. “You found him then? Took your time. Strange was just about to send out a search party.” Rocket tapped something on the spaceship console and opened up a communication channel with the Avengers compound to relay the message that they were back.</p>
<p>Moments later, Doctor Strange carved a second portal for them and Sam finally got to step back onto home soil. Or, home linoleum that covered the floor of the lab. Steve watched Sam spin around the lab in awe, pulling Doctor Strange and Banner into a hug even though it was clear they didn’t really want one. Then his eyes landed on Monica, who was still working away at a holographic computer on the other side of the lab with some of her NASA colleagues.</p>
<p>“Captain America,” she greeted Sam with a smile. “Good to have you back.”</p>
<p>“Good to be back,” Sam returned with a stunned expression. He rounded on Bucky, mouth working in a silent splutter whilst Bucky just smirked at him. Eventually, Sam gave up on whatever he was trying to say and just shook his head. “Where’s my cell phone?” he asked the room at large. “I need to call my mom.”</p>
<p>“Use mine,” Bucky laughed and handed over his phone, directing Sam to the common area where he could make the call in peace. “Do we tell Sharon that we got him back?” Bucky asked, smiling fondly at Sam’s retreating back.</p>
<p>“Soon. He’s still listed as MIA—they’ll drag him in for questioning as soon as they know he’s here. Let’s work on getting the others home and fixing the glitches fixed before we tell them,” Banner suggested. “We could use his help.”</p>
<p>“Good plan. I better go tell Sam’s mom not to spread the word!” Bucky sprinted from the lab in the direction Sam had gone.</p>
<p>“We getting close to that? What’s the status?” Steve asked.</p>
<p>“Well, since you were away Thor and Okoye found another of the missing people from earth, so we’re down to 4 from Earth and 2 Xandarians.”</p>
<p>“And Strange? Any luck with the spell?”</p>
<p>Strange held Steve’s stare for a long moment before answering with that well-worn phrase that was starting to drive Steve mad.</p>
<p>“I’m—”</p>
<p>“—working on it,” Banner and Steve cut in with a chorus. Monica laughed from the back of the room and Strange glared at them before he disappeared with a swish of his cape. Banner shook his head and went back to doing whatever it was that he’d been doing before their return had interrupted him.</p>
<p>“Need any help?” Steve asked, feeling at a loss. Bucky and Sam no doubt had lots to catch up on; the two of them hadn’t got a moment alone in the alt-universe, and Steve wanted to give them space. He let his arms swing by his side. The comedown after a mission—even one as physically easy as that had been—was always rough.</p>
<p>“No. Take the evening, we’ll debrief at 0900 tomorrow.” Banner offered him a smile.</p>
<p>“Alright. I’ll be downstairs if anyone needs me.” Steve lingered half a moment longer, waiting to see if they’d change their mind before he slipped out of the lab and made his way down towards the gym to decompress.</p>
<p>His emotions were reeling. Visiting the parallel universe had been a bag of mixed blessings, and it had kicked up a lot of emotions that swirled tumultuously in his mind. Sam was right, knowing there was a Steve and Bucky out there living happily, knowing they got their happy ending was a comfort, but it just made Steve feel more unworthy of this ‘second chance’ he’d been given with Bucky. Why did he deserve to have it? If the multiverse really was infinite, then there were infinite possibilities, and in one of those worlds, there would be a Steve who had lost his Bucky through no fault of his own. Shouldn’t <em>he</em> be the one to get a second chance?</p>
<p>Steve headed to the gym to work through his emotions the only way he knew how; punching things into oblivion. He spotted Sam and Bucky talking animatedly in the common area as he passed and offered them a wave through the interior glass wall. Bucky returned the wave, but his focus was on Sam and the smile he had plastered on his face was bigger than Steve had ever seen him wear. Steve didn’t take it personally, he was just happy to see Bucky looking so carefree and at ease, for once.</p>
<p>He grabbed a spare set of gym clothes from the locker he’d commandeered in the changing room adjacent to the gym. He figured no one would mind—it had his name on it, after all, and the Steve Rogers of this world wasn’t exactly in need of it. Taking a moment to tape up his hands, Steve centred himself in front of one of the reinforced punching bags. He breathed out, slowly and steadily, and then launched into a set of drills that soon had him sweating and his muscles burning.</p>
<p>He lost track of time, losing himself in his thoughts until his energy began to lag and hunger gnawed at his stomach. He packed up, showered and changed in the gym locker room and headed back up to the common area. It must have been late; outside the floor-to-ceiling windows, the sky was pitch black and no one else was about. Steve helped himself to some of the leftover pizza sitting heaped in the fridge and downed two glasses of ice-cold water. With his hunger sated, Steve tidied up after himself and headed for the sleeping quarters.</p>
<p>He paused outside Bucky’s closed door, feeling guilty that he hadn’t been around to help Bucky fall asleep. He remembered how easily they’d slept wrapped around each other the night before and he’d been secretly looking forward to sharing a bed again. But as much as he longed for that, he couldn’t bring himself to go in and disturb Bucky. He placed his palm gently against the door and lingered morosely for a few long moments. Bucky deserved so much better than Steve could give him.</p>
<p>Holding back a sigh, Steve retracted his hand and slunk down the hall to his own room. He pushed the door open and flicked on the light, shocked when a lump in his bed groaned and rolled over.</p>
<p>“Too bright,” the lump muttered in Bucky’s voice.</p>
<p>“Sorry,” Steve whispered back and turned the light off again in an instant. Darkness fell across the room, but it only took Steve’s enhanced eyes milliseconds to adjust. He saw Bucky curled up in his sheets with a pillow hugged to his chest. Steve stayed frozen in the doorway, not sure what to do. His heart beat wildly in his chest as he stood there, unsure how to decipher the fact that Bucky was in his bed.</p>
<p>“You coming to bed or what?” Bucky’s sleep fogged voice asked, and finally, Steve spurred into motion.</p>
<p>“Yeah, sorry.” He hurried into the ensuite, leaving the light off as he brushed his teeth before he stripped down to his boxers and crawled onto the mattress beside Bucky. Instantly, Bucky let go of the pillow and hugged himself around Steve, instead. Steve couldn’t describe the mix of relief, gratitude and contentment that washed over him as Bucky made himself comfortable in Steve’s embrace. “Sorry I woke you,”</p>
<p>“Quit apologising,” Bucky murmured, little more than a whisper against Steve’s chest before his breathing fell into the relaxed cadence that let Steve know Bucky was asleep.</p>
<p>Sleep didn’t come to Steve quite as easily. He splayed his hand across Bucky’s broad back and felt it rise and fall with the motions of Bucky’s breathing. As his eyes adjusted to the gloom, Steve could make out the threads of gold that lined the grooves between the plates of Bucky’s arm. He lifted his free hand to trace them lightly, and Bucky shuffled in his sleep, pressing closer to Steve’s side.</p>
<p>Steve didn’t deserve a second chance, but Bucky absolutely did. All Steve wanted was for Bucky to be happy—he’d do whatever it took to make that happen.</p>
<p>*✪･ﾟ⍟*✪*⍟ﾟ･✪*</p>
<p>Despite not falling asleep until such a late hour, Steve still woke before six am. He eased himself out from beneath Bucky’s bulk and ran laps around the compound in the frigid December air until he had to traipse inside for the debrief at nine.</p>
<p>They kept details sparse, skimming over the dinner and lunch with their counterparts, focusing instead on the technical aspects of the planet which Banner and Monica were more interested in: same time period, same New York City, same culture and customs, different president, different history. Steve was awed by just how much information Bucky had picked up from scanning the subway adverts, the billboards and newspaper headlines they’d passed, and how his brain had pieced it all together. It was nothing short of spectacular. Steve had always thought of himself as observant by nature, but he was forced to reconsider in light of Bucky’s brilliance. Even Sam admitted he hadn’t noticed half of what Bucky had, and he’d been there for <em>weeks</em>. He had some interesting technological data to share with them, though, apparently Stark and Wilson of that world had sent him away with a flash drive full of their research and theories about the multiverse.</p>
<p>Eventually Banner was satisfied with the information they’d provided and he dismissed them. Steve wasn’t surprised that Sam stuck around to talk to Monica, afterwards; they’d both been trying desperately to keep things professional and not flirt too much during the briefing. It had honestly been charming.</p>
<p>“Let’s leave them to it,” Bucky whispered to Steve and tugged him back towards the common area. “Coffee?” he offered and Steve nodded mutely, silently pulling mugs down from the cupboards as Bucky set the coffee brewing. “Everything okay? You’ve been quiet and brooding since we got back.” Bucky broached the subject carefully as they waited for the coffee to brew.</p>
<p>“A lot to think about.”</p>
<p>“Yeah.” Bucky gave him a long, considering look. He seemed to be debating whether or not to say something. “What did your mom say to you?”</p>
<p>It wasn’t what Steve had been expecting Bucky to ask, and it threw him for a moment. He shoved his hands deep into the pockets of his sweat pants and thought for a moment before answering.</p>
<p>Despite all of the questions Steve had been planning to ask his mom, they’d mostly talked about Bucky. Everything he’d planned to say to her had died on his tongue the moment he’d seen her. She’d breezed in towards the end of their meal of sandwiches and salad, during which Isaac had been conversing with everyone, following his own train of thought that made no sense to anyone not three years old. Steve had tried his best to listen and follow along, making interested noises in what he hoped were the right places, but he didn’t have Bucky’s or Jamie’s knack for decoding toddler speak.</p>
<p>Sarah had let herself in with a key and instantly offered to make everyone a fresh round of drinks. Like Steve remembered of his own mom, she seemed incapable, or disinclined, or sit still. She’d greeted Isaac with a ruffle of his hair and pressed a kiss to his cheek whilst he’d beamed in delight at seeing his “Grantie Sarah!” Steve watched as she gently squeezed Stevie’s shoulders, smiled at Jamie and Becca and pulled Bucky into a warm hug before she’d made her way around the table to Steve.</p>
<p>Steve didn’t think he’d ever seen his mom look so happy and healthy. Towards the end, she’d looked so drawn and tired, and it was only by comparison that Steve realised how long she’d been hiding her illness from him; how gradual her decline had really been. How had he never noticed before?</p>
<p>“You look just like your Grandpa,” she’d told him. “Old Grant Rogers was as big as a mountain. I think you must be even taller than he was.” She reached up to cup her hand around his jaw. Her hands were so small, her wrists so delicate, Steve was almost scared to bring his own hand up to clasp her arm. His hand looked huge by comparison, he’d never been more aware of the changes the serum had made to his body.</p>
<p>He’d always had the same birdlike build as his ma before, and whilst Bucky had towered over Winnifred since he turned fifteen, Steve had only just managed to match his ma’s height on his seventeenth birthday. Now he dwarfed her. He’d never felt so far removed from the boy he’d been before the war came and changed everything. God, what would she think if she knew all the terrible things he’d done? It was then that he decided he couldn’t tell her. Not about the serum, not about any of it.</p>
<p>“Sorry I gave you all the Foley genes, Stevie,” Sarah smiled over her shoulder at her son before turning her attention back to Steve. “Come outside, there must be so much you want to tell me.”</p>
<p>Steve had followed her out to sit on the back step. He ducked beneath her arm, both of them pretending he was still small enough to do so. There was so much he’d wanted to tell her, so much he’d longed to ask her forgiveness for, but that world was still so full of innocence, still so pure that he couldn’t bring himself to lay all of his troubles at her feet. What good could it do?</p>
<p>He did manage to tell her about his Bucky, about the guilt that was eating him alive, and how the universe was now taunting him with a fresh chance to mess everything up all over again.</p>
<p>“Life is too short to allow yourself to become trapped in one chapter,” she’d told him. “You learn what you can, you stand up, and you move forward.”</p>
<p>“How can I move forward without him?” Steve had asked in a voice laced with heartbreak.</p>
<p>“It’s not easy, but in order to grow you must let go of the past.” She reached out to cradle his jaw and used her thumb to wipe tears from his cheeks, tears Steve hadn’t realised were falling.</p>
<p>“What if I don’t want to?” he’d asked in a whisper.</p>
<p>“Oh, <em>mo stoirín</em>,” she whispered softly. <em>My little darling</em>. Steve was hardly little anymore, but the familiar endearment filled him with warmth. “Would he want you to be unhappy? Would he want you to suffer?”</p>
<p>“I failed him. It’s what I deserve,” Steve protested. “I lost him. I couldn’t save him—I promised him that I’d always have his back. To the ends of the earth. I promised I’d love him in this life and whatever comes after, and I . . . I let them take him from me. I couldn’t save him. How could I let that happen?”</p>
<p>Sarah pulled back for the first time since they’d sat on the step. She framed his face with her small and deceptively strong hands and fixed him with a fierce look.</p>
<p>“You didn’t <em>let</em> it happen, Steve. It wasn’t in your control. You can’t control the actions of those around you. Some things you cannot prevent, and some things you cannot change. It wasn’t your fault,” she told him with a firm, unyielding conviction. “Pray with me.” It wasn’t a request.</p>
<p>Steve wasn’t sure he still believed in god anymore. He hadn’t ever since his mother had died, and nothing he’d seen afterwards had exactly filled him with faith, but he let her pray for him and took comfort from the strength of her belief, nonetheless.</p>
<p>“She prayed for me,” Steve answered Bucky with a soft huff. “An old prayer my mom always used to mutter under her breath: ‘God, give me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change, courage to change the things I can, and wisdom to know the difference.’” he repeated for Bucky. “She told me it wasn’t my fault that Buck died, told me I should move on.”</p>
<p>Bucky didn’t immediately say anything in return. He stared at the kitchen countertops and scratched at a non-existent spec of dirt.</p>
<p>“Steve’s ma used to say something similar. She had it embroidered on a cushion.” Bucky smiled at the memory. “‘Father, give us courage to change what must be altered, serenity to accept what cannot be helped and the insight to know one from the other.’”</p>
<p>“I think I like her version better,” Steve commented and Bucky laughed.</p>
<p>“Yeah, Steve only ever took the first line to heart. He was determined to change everything that should be altered. Could have done with some wisdom to know better.” Bucky twisted his mouth into a smile and finally brought his eyes back up to Steve’s. “Sarah’s right, though. It wasn’t your fault. You shouldn’t keep blaming yourself. When you’re ready to move on, you shouldn’t feel guilty. Bucky wouldn’t want you to.”</p>
<p>“I can’t know that.”</p>
<p>“But I can,” Bucky protested. “All he’d want is for you to be happy. That’s all I want.” He pushed his mouth into another smile and held Steve’s gaze until Steve forced himself to look away. He wanted to believe it, he desperately did, but...</p>
<p>“But your Steve—” Steve clamped his mouth shut and shook his head. “I know it’s not the same.” It wasn’t, and Steve wasn’t advocating that Bucky forgive the man who had moved on without him. Steve wanted to punch the guy himself. But didn’t that make him a hypocrite?</p>
<p>“No, it’s not,” Bucky agreed, bristling a little. “If he’d moved on in those five years when he thought I was dead, if he’d found someone else and found peace, I’d have been happy for him,” Bucky said. “It would have hurt like hell, but if he was truly happy, I’d have been okay with it.” He took a breath. “But he didn’t move on. He regressed. He abandoned all of his morals and I can’t be happy for him when I don’t see how he can be happy with himself.” Bucky’s hand gripped the countertop so tightly that Steve feared it would crack. Bucky seemed to realise that, too, and let go, flexing his hands at his sides, instead. “And if he did all that because of me? Because I wasn’t good enough—?” He cut himself off with a gasp and shook his head.</p>
<p>Anger roiled through Steve, anger that Bucky should ever feel so much hurt.</p>
<p>“Have you spoken to him?” Steve asked.</p>
<p>“Can’t bring myself to.”</p>
<p>“Maybe there’s an explanation—” Bucky scoffed and Steve stopped short. He wasn’t about to push for anything. As far as he was concerned this earth’s Steve could go to hell, but he hated to see how much Bucky was still so twisted up about it. Conflict resolution had never been Steve’s strong suit, but he knew calm and clear communication was meant to be the key.</p>
<p>“He wrote me a letter,” Bucky offered after a beat. “I haven’t read it yet.”</p>
<p>“Might be a good place to start?”</p>
<p>“Yeah, I dunno.” Bucky shrugged and used the excuse of pouring out the coffees to avoid explaining any further. Steve let the subject drop.</p>
<p>It was wrong, he knew, to tie their grief together, but until Bucky found a way to move on from the mess with his Steve, Steve knew there was no hope of moving on, himself. It was almost like he needed Bucky to make peace with Steve before he could feel like he, himself, was forgivable.</p>
<p>“Smells good!” Sam’s voice was a welcome interruption. He stepped into the kitchen and stole one of the mugs of coffee for himself, forcing Bucky to fetch another cup down with an exaggerated scowl. Sam blithely ignored Bucky and settled himself against the counter, looking Steve up and down and taking a big slurp of coffee before asking, “So, is this Steve better versed in pop culture, or do I have my work cut out all over again?” He gave Steve a dazzling gap-toothed smile.</p>
<p>“Not sure I’m qualified to answer that myself,” Steve smiled back.</p>
<p>“Simple question—” Sam paused for effect. “Marvin Gaye, Trouble Man Soundtrack—thoughts?”</p>
<p>“A masterpiece,” Steve answered honestly and Sam grinned.</p>
<p>“Yeah, I like this guy. He can stay.”</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>I promise Bucky will read the letter eventually! 💙💙💙</p>
        </blockquote><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>I'm on <a href="https://twitter.com/astrobucky">Twitter</a> and <a href="https://trenchcoatsandtimetravel.tumblr.com/">Tumblr</a> come and say hi and talk headcanons with me 😊💙</p></blockquote></div></div>
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